Demonic Divulgences
by DahliaASant
Summary: She was desperate to keep him from destroying her mission....and so out of desperation, she struck a deal with Vergil. But how far is Lady willing to go to fulfill that mission? VxL, AU
1. A Deal with the Devil

Welcome to my first ever Devil May Cry fanfic!

Okay...Chapter One is extremely short. But I'm sure you can deal with that. :P I just needed a smooth start to the actual story, and things will obviously branch out from here in the next few chapters...however, I can't guarantee a happy ending or anything of the sort. Despite the romance, I'm keeping this at a very dark theme of fanfiction, so expect many angsty scenes to come up, specifically about character pasts. And I might throw in some Dante too. : Enjoy...and THANK YOU FOR READING (and reviewing...please!)

A playful smirk cascaded down his lips like glittering frost.

"You're sure of this, woman?"

Cerulean orbs met the glazed irises of the girl, whose lip trembled in cruel betrayal to her effort at appearing brave. For a moment, her fingers instinctively curled about the ebony cannon at her side, yet they became limp and cold as she willed herself to be valiant-to be anything but Mary, her flaws almost penetrated by his glittering gaze.

"Yes," Lady tasted the word with a bitter reluctance; a premonition to the iron flavor of the blood that could be shed if she were not careful.

Normally, the girl would never strike up favors with a demon (she _was _a demon _hunter_ after all), yet now there were different things at stake; things she couldn't easily let go of. She felt like a wounded fly, caught helplessly within the sticky bonds of a hungry spider-and no matter how fearlessly she struggled to fly away with her torn wings, she was only delaying being consumed entirely.

This particular spider, however, had cold orbs carved from glass, reflecting a vicious, blood-thirsty malice in every flicker of his face while listening to her plea. He seemed bemused at her response, at the look of desperation on her innocent face. Vergil took a slow, lingering step towards Lady's still figure, a brush of cool air emitting from his confident frame that caused her to shudder.

"Of course, it isn't all the time a human is asking for mercy from a demon. And in any case…"

His gaze swept from the room they were occupying to linger upon her face. Lady felt her cheeks grow hot; the intimidating half-demon had seemed to be neglecting any sort of eye contact earlier, yet now…it was as if she were a weapon he were appraising with his cool, frigid eyes. Vergil cocked his head as casually as if he were discussing the weather, yet his words bit her resolve like an asp's venomous bite,

"…Why does it matter to me if you want Arkham finished off for yourself? Or even if you thought you were doing some foolish, just act by keeping me from finishing him…why does it matter so much?"

As the silvery-haired demon spoke, a smirk slipped upon his lips like fluid toxic. Lady found herself clenching her fists, eyes narrowing as the blood rushed to her head. She had not expected it would be easy, had she? She knew the bastard devil would have to be persuaded; after all, he didn't understand a concept such as _family…_

But even now…he _had _been willing to listen, hadn't he? That had been a huge blow to her originally low expectations of him. Maybe she could be honest with him…after all, half-demon or not, this man _did _appear more civilized than Dante…even if he was more intimidating as well. Lady found herself struggling to imagine what would happen if Vergil wasn't willing to listen; what would she do, then? To see her fa-…Arkham's bloodied corpse, his bones crushed beneath the demon's foot…never able to see the look of terror in his eyes at the sight of her above him, her Kalina Anne impaling his flesh, her smile of satisfaction as she knew her mother was avenged…

Willing her lips to move, she replied in barely a whisper.

"He's my father. I know that might mean nothing to you, but I _have _to be the one that kills him, no one else! I know a demon like you would never promise such a thing, but I…I…"

She pursed her lips, her heart trembling, fit to nearly burst from its seams and destroy her carefully collected composure in rivers of emotion.

_Steady yourself, Mary. You can do this._

"…I don't care! I'll keep you from killing him if I have to…Dante, too!"

Lady found herself stamping her foot into the ground, gritting her teeth as the words poured unabashedly from her lips. Surely he would understand how urgent her need was; but if not, she no longer cared. She would hunt them all down if she had to; as long as she killed Arkham…

Vergil's bemused expression only seemed to deepen, as the creases of his lips spread and his hands went to his sides. For once, he actually seemed anything but stern; yet his gaze still glittered with malice like sparking daggers as he spoke,

"You _actually _thing you can kill me, woman? Perhaps I would take your threats seriously if you gave me a reason to take _you _seriously! I planned to kill your father when I found him, and I would have destroyed the useless bastard if you hadn't interfered! I doubt there is anything at all you could offer me that could…"

"Me."

He grew silent. His eyes widened, the blue of his irises a sky of bewildered confusion; it seemed as if the color (if there was any color left within the immaculate white of his skin) had slithered away from his face, leaving nothing but a stunned statue of the formerly amused demon. Lady felt herself begin to tremble. Was she that desperate to ensure her fa-Arkham's blood would be spilled on her hands…hers and hers alone?

She could see the question mirrored on Vergil's quiet face.

After a moment he brought his lips to life, opening and shutting them slowly, as if testing his ability to still form coherent sentences. Lady's hand stroked the side of her Kalina Ann as she watched him; a way to ease her mind from the numbed shock of her own words, escaping so wickedly from her lips.

"_You?_" Vergil finally managed to reply, his gaze unwavering and suddenly very curious, "What does a human think she can…"

"Whatever you want," She said quickly, cutting him off as she clenched her fist until her nails bit skin.

"Even if…I wanted to use you for my pleasure? Or…to hurt you?" Vergil inquired smoothly, his voice a velvety purr, as if his penetrating eyes had encompassed her worst fears and were coolly voicing them. He appeared as if he couldn't begin to understand why she was doing such a thing in the first place; and secretly, she was beginning to mirror his thoughts.

For some reason, Lady found herself doubting Vergil would do such things to her-demon or not. As cold and cruel as he was, she doubted he would take such sick pleasures…

Yet it was a risk that came as catches to an otherwise flawless deal.

Or was it?

"You have to promise me," She hissed fiercely between her teeth, her voice tinted with desperation, "_Promise _that you will let me kill Arkham. And then you can have me…in whatever way you want."

She wasn't sure her f-…that man would return soon; he had, after all, escaped, as soon as Vergil had stabbed him. She had arrived just in time; screaming in terror, the shock causing Vergil to stop suddenly, to pull the blade from his gouged skin with a growl and a flourish of his usually calm blue eyes, reddening slits at being interrupted. Of course, he was enraged to the point of blind anger; she had been no fool to fight him, then. Yet as soon as he raised the blade towards her, his eyes filled with wrath…she had sank to her knees, thinking quickly, knowing she needed to do something to assure he wouldn't kill her and Arkham afterwards.

Her eyes hardened as adrenaline burst within her veins at the thoughts coalescing in her mind. She willed herself not to look at Vergil with contempt; she could no longer afford it, not if her plan were to go into motion. Already Lady could see the gears shifting in Vergil's mind as he pondered her words…already she knew her fate rested on the words that would flow from his lips like poisoned silk.

It had seemed an eternity before Vergil turned to face her. His eyes were probing her face, scanning her-for any sign of fear, perhaps. Slowly his lips pursed together and he spoke, his stare never wavering-

"You will resume Arkham's work in aiding me in opening the Demon World. It may be tiring work for a woman, but…considering your bargain of the deal, who would argue?"

A grin played upon his lips as he spoke, and for a moment Lady could only watch as he withdrew the winking blade of his Yamato and brought it to his wrist. His skin was immaculately white, as smooth as alabaster-she could only gasp as the delicate flesh was broken beneath the pressure of the sword, droplets of ruby blood trickling in rivulets down his skin.

He approached her quickly, the blood-stained blade bared as if he were going to attack her-yet before Lady could retaliate out of instinct, he gripped her arm firmly with his hand, seizing her. Lady couldn't help but admire how warm and smooth his fingertips were, even as he gazed down upon her with such impatience.

A shocked cry flew from her lips as pain bloomed along her own wrist; the cold, thick liquid that was her own blood pooled along her slender arm, until Vergil brought his wounded wrist towards her own and whispered soft words like secrets beneath his breath. A burning sensation, and her blood seemed to bubble, mingling with his own before slipping from their skin in a scarlet teardrop, to be devoured by Arkham's own neglected pool of blood.

"A pact," Vergil murmured softly, his voice a quiet hiss in Lady's ear,

"Your life…in exchange for ending Arkham's."

How bitterly ironic.


	2. The Devil Cries?

**Thanks to everyone so much for their reviews. I'm so happy people like this. Chapter 2 is mostly more interaction between the two, in Vergil's POV...the action and story picks up in 3, however, so bear with me. Thank you for reading! **

Vergil stared at the girl before him. That was all he had been capable of doing ever since he had been foolish enough to share his blood with a human-in a _pact, _nonetheless. If he had not been in such a state of shock at being caught off-guard in his butchering of Arkham, perhaps he would have been able to kill the foolish girl with great enthusiasm as well.

And yet…why had he lied and told her he still needed aid in his plans? He watched the strange girl as she slowly flipped through the leather bound, dust-caked tome her father had carried only an hour before. Vergil found himself relishing the look of horrified disgust that almost comically contorted her innocent, childlike features as she skimmed the book's rather dark innards. It was almost like watching some virginal, angelic being come upon an object soiled with blood and profanity, her eyes averting from the book to suddenly-

"What?"

The huntress's almost angry tone of voice caused Vergil to scowl. If he had been more absentminded, he would have jumped at the girl's quickness in reacting to him. It was strange that she could catch him off-guard; all the humans he had ever come into contact with had pitifully slow reaction rates, realizing only a breadth of a second before his Yamato sliced into their bones that they were even being attacked, let alone approached by him. How could she do such a thing so effortlessly; did she think him a fool? His pristine orbs narrowing as he faced her, his mouth a stern line upon his face, he retorted sharply,

"_What _is the matter, girl?"

At his words, edged with hostility as they ricocheted across the wide hall, the human scowled in return. Her bottom lip emerged in an exaggerated pout, her scarred nose wrinkled, brows knitted above her narrowed eyes.

"I _have _a name, you know!"

"Really?" He replied smoothly, though slightly irked by the woman's forwardness,

"And why does it matter? You remain Mary, regardless of what I refer to you."

At once, the woman's lip curled inward, reminding him of a diseased dog about to strike. Her fists clenched beneath the gloves that held them, white and trembling, grip tightening to wrinkle the pages of the heavy tome lying dormant in her hands,

"Don't call me Mary! Call me…"

She hesitated for a moment, before nodding slightly to herself, as if to confirm her alias to her contemplating thoughts,

"…Lady."

The son of Sparda watched her carefully, curiosity ebbing at any lingering aggravation he may have had. As the word had borne itself from her lips to exist in the air, it seemed almost flowing; almost sacred to her.

"Lady." His lips caressed the word as if savoring it. Profanity. Disgusting, the taste it left on his mouth.

Mary had symbolized an innocence that made her seem almost childlike, naïve; a girl trapped in the chambered nautilus of a woman's mind, merely tainted with the prospect of her lust for vengeance; a goal the only thing marring her silly human innocence; her disgusting yet intriguing mortal morals. Yet, Lady…well…that was clearly suggesting something quite the opposite.

"Tell me, Lady…" He murmured quietly , gauging her for her reaction as he did so, "What are you trying so hard to hide?"

In an instant, Lady's expression shifted from disgruntled irritation to shock, her multi-colored eyes widening to that of iridescent saucers, looking too big for her tiny featured face. Those eyes seemed to possess her in their shock; transfixed, staring at Vergil for a long time, before she finally folded her arms before her chest-a sign of defense, to be sure- and scowled at him,

" I'm not hiding anything! And besides, what does a demon like you care-for a _human's _secrets?"

The childlike killer's words were frozen in icy bitterness, yet for some reason they managed to sting his apathetic heart. Vergil found himself feeling unexplainably irritated; his innards tightening painfully like a violin strung too tightly, ready to snap with unexplainable, terrifying quickness-perhaps it was because he killed all who had ever spoken to him this way? (All but his idiot brother, that is-but even that would come in due time). He wasn't sure if he would spare her after her murder of Arkham (yet did he really believe she would live that long, through so many ordeals?), but he certainly wouldn't allow her brash young tongue to snap at him now…

But what was this feeling in his chest; as if her words were embodied in the form of a blade, striking toxic and deadly, straight through his gut-through his heart?

_Pain._

No. Humans couldn't cause him pain; he was better than that, stronger. He was more powerful, numb to the stupidity and sickening delusions of emotion-of weakness dribbling from the mind like blood, ready to break those who willed it to flow until it became fatal. But why did her words puncture his guarded mind; reduce the strengthened fortress of his heart to a frail, withered organ?

For a moment he savored the revulsion marring Lady's face, the heaving of her chest, the smell of blood exploding in what could only be unfettered hatred; the crying of her pathetic little heart…

And yet the realization seemed to make the sting in his own body more sharpened; blades becoming axes digging deep within his soul. If she thought she could speak so rudely toward him…that she could hurt him…none spoke to Vergil in such a fashion. None who wished to live.

"Don't think for an instant that there are no loopholes in our deal," Vergil found himself hissing softly, a snake whose coils had been bitten by an all-too rebellious mouse, "Just because you managed to persuade me of your pitiful plea for mercy doesn't make you any less human, Lady."

The half-demon awaited her response, fully expecting a reaction from the tight-lipped, glaring girl. An eternity seemed to pass between them, the thick air almost mirroring the tension in their fixated stares-yet to his bewilderment, there was nothing but a heavy sigh from the demon huntress. She slowly hung her head, drooping her shoulders as if an anchor had been lowered onto her body-yet Vergil could only bring himself to sneer softly, a frown adorning his alabaster face. He was not sneering at Lady-though she obviously interpreted it as such, for her eyes seemed to spew forth toxic from their pupils-yet at himself.

He should have been feeling the satisfying smugness that came with hurting any disgusting human, but a strange and curious emotion struck a hollow chord within his heart. Quickly, Vergil whipped around so that he no longer faced her, deciding the damnable girl's sadness must have been addictive, unhealthy, and reached forward to place a hand on one of the double doors before them,

"There are demons lying in wait beyond these doors. But this room…is quite…peculiar; different than any other we may encounter. I don't want to risk exhausting your little mind with such information, so why not let you see for yourself…_Mary_?"

Lady visibly flinched at the mention of her name, raising her head slightly to glare at Vergil, her eyes glowing embers that could scorch him if he came too close. The demon didn't know why he was so intent on upsetting her; perhaps it was simply more fun to play with a feisty pet; watch them squirm as you prodded them, always in the upper hand. Yet as his blood warmed with the satisfaction of jarring her nerves, her soft voice caused it to suddenly boil within his veins,

"That's funny. I would have thought your mind would be a little simple too, with that human blood in your veins."

The bitch.

His mind went blank; exploding with a sudden wrath, a bloody distortion of enraged emotions bubbling within him in hot venom, spewing from his body in the blind flick of his wrist towards the sheath at his side; the gleam of Yamato, white hot and winking with malice. As he tore it forward, the reflection of the girl's eyes marred its surface, something his mind hissed to replace with blood-caked satisfaction. The piercing sound of the blade as it ripped through the skin of the air; a hungry beast shrieking for blood, for flesh, for bones as he brought it down, down, down-

The reflection of her eyes in Yamato's polished surface. Her eyes, filled with fear.

He stopped.

Vergil swore beneath his breath, his pumping blood slowing in its veins; his silver hair in disarray, sweat falling in droplets down his skin-

The bladed edge of Kalina Anne flickered before him; their clashing weapons the only source of light in the otherwise dim hall. His labored breathing mimicked her own; their chests heaving, their eyes wild and overflowing with a sudden, subdued madness threatening to burst forward in the slicing of their weapons into one another's flesh. The gleaming tip of his Yamato had been so close, so damned close, poised ready to strike at the tip of her chest, straight between her collarbones-

Was it he who had stopped himself from hurting her…or was it her quick defense?

He didn't want to know.

The truth would scare him more than any trickle of emotion passing through his heart; any sliver of pain in his body. A long, labored sigh escaped his lips as he rapidly pulled his blade from its position, trapped between the holds of Kalina Anne, sinking back within the skin of its sheath with a defeated hiss. Sweat dribbling down her face, her neck in glistening droplets, the trembling Lady brought her own weapon to her side, allowing it to stand sentinel to her shuddering body-she refused to sheath it, yet it was something he found to understand.

Something he could almost respect.

With a last, frustrated growl towards Lady's direction, standing so intact and _alive _behind him (even when she had insulted him in such a way that had brought death to all those before her!), Vergil turned towards the twin doors coaxing him forward, brought his hands upon the cold yet inviting handles. It was better to place their frivolous encounters behind him-he couldn't let such weakness mar his goals; the glory that lay ahead of him. The beautiful vengeance.

He couldn't even wonder why he had let her live, for the infinite time this day.

As the doors obliged to his gentle touch with their resounding, heavy yawn to life, Vergil entered the darkness before him, allowed it to embrace him, clarify his mottled senses for only the goal that lay ahead. The girl's footsteps echoed in quick staccatos behind him, yet he could smell her uneasiness like defecation to the darkness. It was disgusting, followed by this little bitch, this stupid puppy at his heels-

Yet he couldn't help but see himself reflected in those multi-colored eyes.


	3. Dark Dreams

**Here I am again, with Chapter 3 of my Devil May Cry 'fic THANKS TO EVERYONE SO MUCH FOR ALL THEIR REVIEWS. It makes me so so so happy people enjoy reading this! And I'm really, really sorry this chapter took me FOREVER to get out, I've been struggling with writer's block and school has started and has been going crazy for me and college applications and family life, usual hectic things. **

** This chapter is much, much longer than the last two. I apologize if it isn't up to par in writing style as the other two as well; I wanted to get things moving along, and so the characters may be lacking in...characterization in this chapter. I promise the next will be MUCH better, though (and will come out much sooner than this one did...). I created my own demons and areas in this 'fic because some may be central to getting the story going, and you'll see familiar bosses up ahead as well, most likely...(and probably Dante along the line, too)  
**

**Comments and (constructive) criticism are much appreciated. Happy reading : **

* * *

Darkness.

It was something she had always feared as a child. She could recall the dust-caked days of warmth; substance, tranquility-something other than the blind vengeance that forever since raped her innocence. It was Mary back then, with her dark hair in pig-tails, eyes cascading in multi-colored mirth in the hazy daze of being held by strong hands; the smiling sun, cotton-candy clouds and merry-go-rounds. Days of school, daze of friends, boyfriends, flickering in and out of the summer heat like laughing mirages. Yet there was always the time of day when the sun would scar, pricked by stars, bleeding and withering away before her eyes. There was always that moment when the horizon became a black slate coffin, burying the innocent golden body beneath the Earth; the murderer moon. She could almost feel the warmth dissipate from her skin, the sky, the world; tucked and trembling beneath layers of blankets, cushions. Convinced there something there within the dark, waiting, watching-

But then father would come. Every day, when the moon bared its silver teeth and she lay trembling, he would come, his long fingers a sliver of iridescent light against the darkened slip of her doorway, her room filled with his radiance-his warm smile, his kind, flaming eyes.

"What's wrong, Mary?"

He would pull himself to her side, settle upon the heavy sheets, take her hand in his. He wasn't bald, then-it was the demonic rituals that would destroy his mane of elegantly cropped black hair-and he lowered his head near hers so that the first few tufts of his ebony locks tickled her nose. She giggled, but the darkness congealed even his features as if he were a gargoyle set in stone, his bright eyes terrifying under the glare of the dim moon,

"It's too dark!" She whimpered, wrapped her arms around his broad neck, buried her face in the crook of his shoulder, "What if a monster gets me?"

"Mary," Her father's voice was a tenor's envy, baroque yet tinted with amusement, "You know there's no such thing! I know it's hard to believe, but there's nothing here but your room, and you, and me. No monsters under the bed, or in the closets. And anyway…"

He leaned close to her then, so close she could feel his warm breath on her cheek, comforting and intimate. It was as if he were telling her a secret, his eyes hooded beneath the veil of pitch black night, kindling with flames,

"Monster or no monster, I'll always be here for you…protecting you."

She smiled. He could always make her smile. Her father placed his hands upon her shoulders, gave her forehead a gentle kiss. He held her there; she could have sworn he was the Sun. He was her Sun, her warmth, her nourishment-her life. With him there, the darkness was never so dark. There were no monsters, no threats.

But Lady knew better than Mary. Arkham _was_ that monster within.

Now the Darkness embraced her, a layer of slippery skin, thick and heavy against her small bones. It held demons, monsters, phantasms-it held her in its grip, and she let it take her, let it claim her. Submerged in darkness, she could do nothing but swim, dive deeper, hope for a way back to something familiar-back to light.

The huntress had been navigating with Vergil through what seemed to be a pitch-black corridor, judging by the fact that her hands hit no walls as far as she stretched them. They were on thick Earth, perhaps grass or soil-her heels sank a good inch beneath her with every step she took, so that she had to pull her legs upward to prevent her from falling through unseen obstacles or lodging her boots within deep patches of ground. Lady could sense Vergil somewhere nearby, she was accustomed now to his smell-a strange mix of charcoal and roses, though she couldn't see him (or her own fingers, for that matter) and had to rely on both her own senses and pure instinct.

They had been walking through this strange place for what seemed like hours. Lady was sorely tempted to scream at Vergil and inquire if he even knew where in _Hell_ he was even going, but just as she was about to open her mouth in irritation at nearly twisting her heel within a surprisingly soft patch of earth beneath her, suspicion stabbed her rationale with a new sense of thick, heavy cold against the Darkness. It was a new layer of sleet, a different cold that made her tremble; the own frostiness of her convoluted thoughts and fears. Was Vergil simply leading her astray, in an effort to kill her and be rid of her once and for all? Perhaps this entire thing was just a trap, waiting until she fell and twisted her ankle, rendered unable to move or defend herself, and then he would-

_No._

He couldn't break a pact, no matter how terrible he seemed. Lady had witnessed it first-hand, hadn't she? Vergil had nearly stabbed her with his Yamato-and then had suddenly stopped, perhaps considering he couldn't kill her after all. If he had not kept himself from bearing down his blade, Lady seriously doubted she could have held her Kalina Anne against him in combat. He had placed all his inhuman strength into that one blow, which Lady had been so sure he was going to bring down in a mighty arc, straight through her skull to impale her soft insides-…

But he _hadn't._

Pact?

Or was it something else?

The demon destroyer shuddered at the thought as her heels suddenly began to clack against what she guessed was thick, solid ground beneath her feet, holding out her hands before her to steel herself against any obstruction in the way of the thick darkness. It was strange to regain her normal composure again after hiking through dirt and soil for what seemed to be hours; her muscles ached, and Lady would have loved the chance to simply stop, find a source of light and survey her surroundings, but she doubted Vergil had even pulled a muscle in their venture. She wondered if they had arrived to whatever destination Vergil had in mind, and although her huntress side knew it was best to be patient and wait, her human (and particularly _female_) side was exhausted.

"Vergil?"

The girl's voice echoed fluidly throughout the stiff darkness, reverberating off of walls that seemed light years away. Bracing herself, she fought the urge to shriek in surprise as tiny, nearly inaudible scratching noises filled her ears, the shuffling of feet, droplets of what sounded like a damp liquid against stone.

But there had been no reply.

Her bones became frosted with ice as she whipped around in the area's constricting, oozing obscurity. They were in a cave; she knew it now-submerged beneath the Earth, the falling water amplified in gigantic downpours that filled her ears. The darkness seemed to shift; possessed, transfigured, miniature smoky shadows that scratched against the ground, squealed in sharp whispering cries against the air. She couldn't help but panic, she could feel whatever embodied the darkness around her begin to push against her; damp, slippery skin, high-pitched hisses like snakes, mousy squeals that seemed to come from nowhere yet filled her ears, her throat, her nostrils-

Had she lost Vergil somewhere in the corridor? She had heard his shuffling feet, but maybe it had been her own, maybe she truly was lost in this darkness, with whatever lay around her, wanting inside of her-

the cold slithered within her nostrils, between her lips, made her hair damp, her flailing limbs as she struggled to grab onto her Kalina Anne-but it was too hard, it was like she was pushing through layers of pillowy lead, of rubber walls, her tongue no longer wanted to move, it was numb and prickling within her mouth, her feet were sore, aching, they refused to move, they needed rest, her heart didn't want to pump, her lungs inhaled sandpaper and screamed within her body to stop stop stop stop breathing it hurt too much it was ice stabbing at her innards her veins were dying fire they were cold ice her heart wanted sleep her mind was a frost bite her body was brittle fragile prickling all over, thousands of ants and she wanted to rest she wanted to submit submit submit-

And then there was light.

Warmth.

She gasped. Her body no longer existed; it was buried in the dark, prickling, oozing, her innards throbbing dully, languidly, filled with snow and ice and black and dark and her eyes were shut and yet they were open and yet she could still see and-

She was in pig-tails again, her hair dark, her eyes wide and innocent and filled with light. Mary was standing against the darkness; her pink birthday dress, her rag-doll's painted smile between her hands. She was so warm; it was a column of light before her that penetrated the thick body of darkness, illuminated marble blocks of floor before her. But the source of light was not from a lantern, or a candle, or a bulb-

It was from the body lying before her. She couldn't think. Couldn't breathe. She just stood there, empty and waiting, wondering at the still figure; immaculate, the shape of a pale, perfect woman, draped in a black cloth, pale moonlight against the black sky. The body emanated warmth; and Mary could feel tears fill her eyes, mechanical, cold and sharp and biting. She had seen this body before; this body animated with breath, with life, this body that cradled her as a child, kissed her forehead, lulled her to sleep. This body that she had loved, adored, before it was desecrated with red. This body she had cried over, held in her small arms as a child, as Mary.

"Mother?"

Mary's voice was hoarse, but it seemed to come from everywhere, a never-ending echo. Reluctant, she walked closer to the thin, pale figure, clutching the rag doll between her tiny fingers. Mary didn't know what she would find, but she wanted to be in her arms again-she wanted to feel substance again, something other than this hollow cold, something other than this terrible darkness…

The figure's chest heaved, rose, fell.

Mary's heart fluttered. She was _alive._

Her mother was _alive._

"Mother!"

She was so close to her, the body lying forlorn within the center of the corridor, yet she felt so far. Every step was heavy, tugging at the cords of her desperate heart, filling her with a sort of hope she had thought she lost so long ago…

_But she's dead. _

_You saw her die._

No. She could still help her. She could still save her. There was no Arkham here; she wouldn't let him come from the darkness, wouldn't let him lay a finger on her. She ran faster, now, her skin crawling with pain, as if she were being gnawed to the bone, her heart fluttering in her chest with sharp throbs. Mary's breath was ragged as she fell to the ground near her mother, came so close she could see the slight wrinkles under her eyes, the familiar arch of her round cheeks, the beautiful breath between her heart-shaped lips…

"What the _hell_ are you doing, girl?!"

A voice from the darkness. Thick and hostile with rage.

A man's voice.

Mary's insides twisted with dread. She pulled herself closer to her mother's sleeping figure, on her knees, reaching out trembling hands to hold her, scoop her up, protect her with her embrace-

Pale hands sprung from the dark, cold and terrifying. They came straight for her, long arms; the man's snarling; demonic, monstrous and angry. It wanted to devour her, it wanted to destroy her mother, it wanted to destroy her dreams, destroy her life _again-_

She couldn't let him.

She couldn't let him take everything away from her again.

Not _again._

"Stop being stupid and get away from her! Your mind is too weak, you're only human, you can't understand what's happening…"

"No! You can't touch me!"

Strong hands clutched at her arms, struggling to pull her away, to pull her back into the darkness, away away away from her mother's sleeping figure, from her tranquil body, take everything away-

"I have to help her!" Tears stung at her cheeks as she batted at the hands that held onto her; adamant, stubborn, "I have to help my mother!"

A shudder behind her. Her mother's breath, growing shallow; dwindling, fading away in the darkness. No. She couldn't lose her again. She couldn't let her heart be broken again; she had to do something, she had to do anything-

"It's too late! Mary!"

The monster in the darkness.

Her body stiffened in his grip. Her heart sank, capsized painfully within the seas of her memories. He was trying to kill her again.

Father.

Arkham.

Desperate, she kicked at the hands that were still struggling so adamantly to pull her away, sank her teeth into the white knuckles. A scream from Arkham, and his face emerged from the dark, lined with pain, his eyes darting from her terrified, trembling frame to that of her mother. But something was wrong. His hair was whiter than snow, his eyes a cold blue; there were no angry flames, no murderous eyes-

"Mary, please! Listen to me!"

A groan from behind her. Her mother's still figure; an angry red welt across her throat. Cheap shot; Arkham's first target, her shattered windpipe. She knew what would come next. She knew all too well the blood that would dribble down her mother's throat, the way it oozed along the brim of her lips like tears of pain.

No.

No.

_No._

"Fuck you! I hate you!"

She pulled herself away from him, reached for her mother. Her hands brushed the blood bubbling down her throat; frantic, trembling, wanting to staunch the wound-but how? How? She couldn't think, she couldn't breathe, all she could do was cry, feel the emptiness overtake her, the hollow prickling in her soul causing her tears to fly from her innards, fly red and oozing like blood-

Her mother's eyes flew open. They were red. They were fire.

Arkham's eyes.

Monster's eyes.

They leered at her, cold as the moon; possessed, transfigured. Her mother's face, savage and hostile and reaching for her and her arms were at her throat and Mary couldn't breathe she couldn't think she couldn't see she was bleeding from every pore her heart was dying her body was breaking-

The man's screams. Her mother's screams. Angry squeals filled the air; the darkness congealed around her, suffocating her; she was floating, falling, then the grip on her throat was released; a sharp, squelching sound, and she was head-first on the ground, a warm body above her, hands pulling her forcefully, gently down into the Earth.

"I'm sorry, Mary."

His voice. Who was he? It was comforting, warm, traces of compassion against the rough edges. Constantly angry. He was always hostile; always spiteful. In an instant the weight of his body upon her was relieved; and she turned, her eyes blurred and tear-streaked, to watch the bottom of his frame as he ran throughout the darkness, ran for her bleeding mother, her bleeding heart, her savage screams and cries, the black billowing around her body-

The gleaming of something silver, something light. _Yamato._ Is that what it was called? He twisted it expertly between his fingers, like art; demonic beauty, dove it down down down in a screaming blur that cut the darkness cut into her mother's body cut into her heart and her soul-

Her mother burst into black flames. Ebony blood squirted from her innards, sprayed his immaculately blue uniform; a demonic soldier. An avenger. The corpse of her mother split cleanly in half from the neat cuts of his blade, fell open to reveal a hideous, squealing monstrosity; a three-legged spider with its rolling red eyes, leather wings unfolded as it screams and its millions of eyes became mouths that opened to foam and scream and scream and scream and the whole room is screaming and throbbing and it isn't darkness any longer but it is the fluttering of wings and the creatures all around her-

In an instant, Lady was herself again. The prickling, compressing of her body had stopped; her limbs no longer ached, her mind was intact. She was in her own form again; not the confused, warped form of her memories, of Mary, but dressed in her combat boots, her shorts and top, her Kalina Anne slung at her side. And the man above her…it was Vergil, the Vergil she could not remember when her thoughts had been clouded, the Vergil that had saved her, his silver hair in disarray, his breath in short, labored gasps, his gleaming Yamato caked with black blood.

The darkness dissipated, and as she looked around, she realized they were on an area of elevated Earth; a marble altar, damp and dripping from stalactites glistening above. She could almost make out the colored prisms of stained glass windows, their multicolored stories eclipsed by the lack of light.

"Vergil," She whispered, her voice a low, shuddering gasp. It was strange; her tongue felt swollen, her limbs lax as if they had not been hers for an eternity, "What just happened?"

He stood there for a moment in the darkness, as if debating on whether or not to speak. The demon's eyes were like blue flames penetrating the blackened veil all around them-strangely comforting. With a scowl toward his blade, he gripped the bottom of its handle, ran his fingers along its length so that the blood fell, oozing from the metallic surface and onto the ground.

"You were possessed," Vergil replied calmly, as if he were telling Lady she had come down with a cold, or had merely cut herself, "These demons prey on the weak-minded, bite into your body and use their eyes to probe your head for your most traumatic memories. They then trick you into thinking you are experiencing them again, and slowly destroy you as you relive them, using your body to breed."

As his words ricocheted across the altar and down the vast corridor behind them, Lady could only watch his figure as he paced, encircled her own still-dormant frame, legs outstretched in a sitting position, her palms propped against the wet floor to keep her up. His blue eyes darted to and fro, yet they would occasionally flicker to meet her own, filling her with a strange emotion she found difficult to comprehend, something that caused her stomach to churn and brought strength to her limbs-

"Why did you save me?"

The words left her lips so suddenly, as if she were possessed again. In an instant Vergil stopped his pacing around her stagnant figure, his eyes sweeping upon her own. It was as if he had finally seen her; his eyes with some sliver of emotion, almost remotely human-

"Because I needed to buy time and allow them to possess you, in order to find the doorway past this altar."

It was as if a weight had pressed upon her shoulders, severed her train of thought.

"What?"

Like she was in darkness all over again.

But why?

She couldn't expect better from him. She couldn't expect him to show any shred of compassion for her, his eyes flickering with the sharpness of diamonds-the disgust, the revulsion.

"I used you as a vessel, of course," He retorted, his voice a silky purr as he came nearer, Lady flinching as if he were a snake ready to strike at her, "They feast on human minds, transfigure their memories and thoughts so easily it's almost ridiculous. Of course I would need a human priestess to aid me in my ventures-I used you as a tool of distraction until I could navigate my way through the demons who were too preoccupied with destroying you, so I could find the doorway to progress further through this tower."

A grin marred his features like a black weal upon his immaculate face. He raised his arms into the air, Yamato sneering silver in the sky; taunting her, her foolish human mind, her flaws, her weaknesses he had so exploited-

She hated him.

The damn demon.

"You used me," Lady whispered, her voice a quiet rasp, her fingers shaking as she pulled herself to her feet, rage budding in every limb of her body, every corner of her heart,

"You used me to get further in this fucking tower, knowing I could have died. _You used me!"_

The son of Sparda sneered, raised a silvery brow, Yamato slithering within its sheath as he gazed down upon her. Lady was a head shorter than him, yet at the moment she didn't care-her fingers felt frantically, mindlessly for Kalina Anne, tucked against her back in waiting.

"Save your emotions for someone who cares, human," He snarled, turned his back to her as he progressed across the altar, began to descent the thick stone steps leading to more soft earth, a metal door beyond.

Her mind felt jarred within her head. At once Lady could recall the memories that had flickered throughout her soul, been gluttonously eaten away and abused by the demons that had attacked her for their amusement. Vergil was just like them, then; using her, his crooked amusement, his cruel, sick pleasure. She was bait for the shark; she was his can of worms. The demons were flapping their wings around her, perched on stalactites and hidden within corners of the corridor, menacing and lusty for her emotions. But Vergil had seen it as well; he had viewed her memories with every disgusting demon in this hall, had been exposed to her insecurities, her fear, her sadness.

"How much did you see?"

Her voice was a whisper in the black world.

The silver-haired demon turned; not completely, yet enough so that she could see the side of his smirking face, enough that he actually paused in his steps.

"Why does it matter?"

His voice was like scorching fire; desert sands, parched oceans devoid of humanity. She walked towards him, Kalina Anne nearly purring in its sheath as it slid against her hip, her mind aching for something definite amidst the confusion; some definite emotion towards this goddamned demon, some definite perception, some definite knowledge of how much of her he was exposed to, how much of her he knew-

"I don't want a demon like you getting close to me. A demon doesn't deserve to know what it's like, being human."

Her voice cracked, parched of emotion, yet it was almost savage in its brokenness-she clenched her fists, felt the blood soak along her palms as her nails dug into her skin. The demon lord turned fully towards her now, his eyes widening in some hidden emotion; whether it was bewilderment she still had the gall to insult him or perhaps amusement, she did not know.

She didn't fucking care.

"Being human?" His lips caressed her words, sounding almost beautiful in repetition.

And then the demon laughed, and it was sheer mockery, his silvery hair falling against his face,

"If you call being human crying over the corpse of a woman whom you will never again see, then I suppose I wouldn't rather be human. If you call being _human_ foolishly avenging yourself against your own blood, after allowing him to murder your mother-then yes, I would rather be a demon, rather be strong and bloodthirsty than watch your pathetic display of emotions, disgusting human!"

She didn't know at what point she had unsheathed Kalina Anne and dove for him. She didn't know at what point in his reply that she had snapped, her body numb with rage, adrenaline pumping through her veins as she flew for him, not caring if he would fight back with Yamato or slice through her skin entirely, not caring if she would die here, having dared struggle to strike Vergil head-on. At that moment she didn't care that she was slower, clumsier, not as powerful as he; all she wanted was vengeance. All she wanted was some sort of justice in this fucked up place; all she wanted was a way to be Mary again after everything, a way to fix things. She didn't know if it was in killing Arkham, or killing all demons, but all she could think of was Vergil, how he had taunted her, how he didn't care for her, how it hurt her, that he could toss her like a doll and never look back, the bastard, to think she was almost-

Yamato clashed with Kalina Anne for the second time that day, the weapons winking in malice as they struggled to tear into one another, Vergil's face expressionless as Lady struggled with all her might to push her weapon through his blockade, straight into his gut. He sneered at her shaking frame, at her struggling against his Yamato, and with a flick of his wrist he pushed himself aside so that her legs gave way and she struck her Kalina Anne into the air before her, swinging it in wide arcs to her side where he had pushed himself away from her in a blind effort to stab at him.

"I hate you so much, I could kill you!" The huntress cried, her voice an angry choke against the depths of her throat.

With inhuman speed, Vergil was reduced to a blue blur as he rushed across the altar's opposite side. In an instant Lady was aiming her gun and shooting rapidly at him, wildly pulling the trigger at Vergil's frame, but it seemed that every bullet she struggled to shoot at him he could always dodge in his fluid movement, reducing them to mere pebbles in the air. She wanted to rush towards him, impale his damned self-righteous, disgusting demonic body with her Kalina Anne, revel in the feeling of eradicating a source of her pain, her manipulation, but he was too fast, too strong, too perfect-

"You don't know the meaning of family, you fucking demon!"

She pulled a grenade from a knapsack at her side, savagely bit off the pin, sent it flying towards Vergil's frame. Vergil stood still, watching her with the smuggest smirk upon his features, his Yamato twirling between his fingertips. Lady watched as the grenade made contact, flew straight into his still body with a mighty roar of destruction, rocketing the altar to the point that she was nearly knocked off balance, jumping out of the way of billowing smoke and uprooted stone, debris like rain. Flames leapt across the plain stone ground, gnawed at the Earth, melted the marble tops of the floors-

Yet Vergil emerged from the thick gray smoke, Yamato in hand, dusting debris from his unscathed figure. Lady could only watch in outrage, rushed towards him, executing a roundhouse kick to his head. The demon merely scowled, moving his body in one quick, fluid motion, grabbing onto her ankle and twisting it so sharply that her body spun and he flung her to the ground. She let out a cry of surprise as her body made contact with the solid floor, but grabbing at her Kalina Anne, managed to sink its silver jaws into his ankles. Vergil shouted in pain, kicked the blood-soaked blade from his limbs and struggled to push Lady away. Yet she was faster for a moment; her gun in hand, she shot rapidly into his chest, his legs, any part of his body she could manage to come into contact with. An aggravated sneer and his Yamato went sailing towards her outstretched hand, her bullets sinking into his chest, leaving smoking holes that smelled of blood and charcoal. Lady panicked, pushed her hand away from the gun in an effort to keep Yamato from penetrating her arm, the blade instead stabbing through her pistol, mutilating its metal surface, sending it smoldering with a defeated clatter on the ground before her. In shock, Lady outstretched her arm to reach for it, and Vergil pinned her hand to the ground beneath his foot, inches away from her damaged weapon. She groaned as she realized she was trapped beneath him; Yamato was at her back, threatening to stab straight through her spinal cord.

"Pathetic," He hissed, his eyes tinted with amused triumph.

But Lady realized he had forgotten one thing.

Her legs.

In a moment she kicked the bottom of her Kalina Anne, pushing it into the air with a great twist of its lithe black body to sail into her free hand. With a flourish beneath him, the huntress shoved the blade's sharpened edge straight through the demon's stomach, relishing the feeling of penetrating his soft insides-so human.

"Now _you_ tell me who's pathetic," Lady hissed, watching an expression of bewilderment fill Vergil's arctic gaze, shatter his stoic stare with an expression of pure…_pain?_

She gasped as she pulled herself hurriedly to her feet, Kalina Anne practically impaling Vergil straight through his chest, watching the red blood stain his torso as he took a sudden slow step backwards, his eyes wide and almost too human in its vulnerability. They were pleading silently; filled with flaws, with some long-forgotten substance, with never ending tundras and inhabitants of emotion in the glacier of his being.

But one shot through the chest was never enough to kill any demon. What the hell was going on?

"…Vergil?" She whispered, rushed towards him, arms outstretched yet unmoving in her uncertainty, brows knitted confusion.

But he didn't reply. He merely pushed himself away from her, backing away-away, into the thick darkness that enclosed around them once again, the frantic flapping of wings. Dread filled her as she realized what had been happening all along; her stupidity.

It was all a trap.

They had been waiting for him to bleed.

"No," Lady gasped, flung herself towards him, terror in her eyes, "_No!_"

But it was too late. The flapping of millions of wings, the delighted squeals and demonic hisses of endless red eyes reflecting on the floor's shining surface. They leapt towards Vergil's stagnant, standing body, eclipsed him in darkness. Lady watched in horror as they flung themselves towards his skin, sank their red teeth deep within his shoulders, his neck, his head, feeding on his memories, his emotions.

The huntress had rendered him weak enough that they could manipulate him. She had made him prey for them; their victorious squeals, their malicious hisses. Lady was frantic; her gun was broken on the ground, her Kalina Anne currently imbedded in Vergil's skin-what could she do, how could she destroy them, keep them from devouring him, from killing him?

But dark thoughts consumed the edges of her mind, dimmed her heart. If he were to die right now; Vergil, the almighty son of Sparda, the half-demon who sought to open Hell to the human world, she would be free. She would be free, utterly and entirely, of their damned pact; free to hunt down Arkham on her own, free of his vicious retorts, his manipulation. The disgusting demon.

But he hadn't let her die.

He _hadn't._

Even when she had just fought him, intent on releasing her rage, he had merely subdued her. It wasn't the time to ponder why he had kept her from death yet again, why he hadn't merely killed her; for now she had laid out his death trap, and she needed to help him, needed to keep him alive.

Demon huntress Lady or not…

She was still Mary.

He was still Vergil.

A sudden moan from Vergil's lips, and the thousands of red eyes were eclipsed, smothered in the thick darkness that seemed to subdue everything around it, in favor only of their two figures, his vacant eyes shining like frail, blue stars.

"Vergil?"

She murmured softly, felt the pinprick of terrified tears at the corners of her eyes. Vergil was not moving; he was silent, staring straight through her as if she were the wind, the air. Silence penetrated the corridor, silence in echoes across the room, silence diluting the resolve of her heart, seducing her into a state of panic.

"Vergil! Please, say something," Lady gasped, rushing so close towards his still body she could almost make out the soft lines of his pale white forehead, the beads of sweat across his perfect, stoic face.

Hesitantly, her eyes flew toward the black body of Kalina Anne, shining obsidian in the demonic dark. The huntress brought her hands to her weapon's shaft, intending to pull it out from Vergil's torso in order to impale and destroy whatever memory would spring to demonic embodiment around her. Just as her trembling fingertips began to gain a firm grip on the shaft of her Kalina Anne, and she began to reluctantly slide it backwards through his taut stomach, something occurred that made her realize things would not be so easy.

Emotion in the demon's eyes. The flapping of wings was behind her, loud enough to fill her ear-drums, yet she was not attacked; instead, thick claws like talons embedded themselves within her back, yet before she could scream, or turn and bat the creature away, it dissipated into the darkness, cold and oozing liquid against her skin. It was inside of her, just as it had been with the illusion of her mother-

Vergil's eyes were that of a human; of a young boy, pristine orbs streaked blue with hot, bloody pain. He was a child in the way he stretched his arms out to her, his fingertips touching her ivory cheek, his hands warm against her face, struggling to pull her into an embrace, struggling to touch her, to kiss her. She couldn't bat him away; what could she do but allow him to hold her, pressing his head against her chest, his eyes wide and filled to the brim with emotions so heavy and so vulnerable they were in tangles of mottled, convoluted abuse, confusion, child-like terror-

It was the word that came from his lips that caused her to feel true panic.

A word that she knew would mean sacrifice, pain;

Humanity.

Vergil turned towards Lady, his cold eyes filled with painful compassion, his voice a choked, desperate sob,

"…Mother?"


	4. Parallels

**Okay, Chapter 4 is severely short compared to 3, but this is basically because I wanted to finish off the cliffhanger from 3 and add ANOTHER one. ; I know...I'm evil, I can expect angry comments from the ending of this chapter. But keep in mind that this story is not even a quarter of the way done, and I plan to do alot more with it. Sooo...yes. Chapter 5 will be out soon and will be at equal length with 3 most likely; I think this is more of a sub-chapter, really, because it_ is_ so short. But you get to see a side of Vergil you would rarely ever see.**

Comments and criticism are appreciated. Enjoy!

* * *

Even demons could bleed.

But could they cry?

Could they feel what humans felt-the pain, what it was to love, to prick yourself with its thorns, clutch desperately onto its blackened, withered petals?

She didn't know. Even now, watching those bloody petals trickle from the de-…from Vergil's icy eyes, desperation budding from withered memories, she couldn't help but wonder if this was another cruel trick; manipulation at its finest. Yet he had his arms around her small frame, devouring her in their almost crippling strength; so much warmth, bursting magma against her skin. She felt his smooth cheek, cool and pristine yet so oddly hot against her own, was both fascinated and repulsed at how his fingers trembled as he held her, as if frightened she would break, as if he really did-

No.

If Vergil truly thought Lady was his mother, she was then a breeding vessel. F course, she had probably been a delicate incubator, a reproductive machine-_of course_ he would be gentle with her. Who would want their pets to hurt themselves, their cattle to dry out of milk?

Gritting her teeth and allowing the panic to subside, Lady realized she was in trouble. She needed to pull Vergil out of his reverie, and yet he had done so by destroying the source of her own hallucinations…the demon that had embodied her mother. But what was she to do if the demon was using _her _as his mother?

A fluttering of wings from the distance; the huntress suddenly realized Vergil's trembling had intensified, was now a series of shudders, convulsions deep within his body, she could already feel rivulets of perspiration slick against his skin, tinged red with blood. Lady would have almost thought he was human if he didn't seat bloody, cry bloody tears…whatever he was beginning to imagine in his mind, it was clearly taking its toll; she wondered how much longer he had before…

No, she couldn't think that! She had to do _something._ She had to remove Kalina Anne from his body, and-

_But what did he ever do for you?_

The thought made Lady hesitate. The raven-haired huntress stood dormant in Vergil's arms, licked her cracked lips, her mind ravaged with turmoil,

_This is a chance to be done with him, isn't it? A demon. You promised to kill all demons. And what were you…but his vessel, through and through? Didn't he prove that, by using you? _

Vergil was practically clinging to her now, his hair matted in perspiration, blood on snow.

"Mother," He rasped. Fear in his eyes.

_Just a nest, a breeding ground, that's all they see humans as. They don't know the meaning of family-they have no genuine emotions! _

He was younger then, the darkness casting a veil over his appearance; dwarfed by the night, a sickly-looking child-pale and trembling. His face was wax, molded with sobs, a horrified grimace; disfiguration. The boy was staring up at her, now, those eyes so bright against the hostile dark, even when they were blood-shot, glazed-

"Mother…you can't leave me, you can't!"

Vergil's voice broke as he spoke-cracked, parched for compliance, lost hope. He was so frail, then, he could break so easily, his skin paper-thin, almost translucent against the dark…he was on his knees, hugging her calves, his head buried against her boot. Vergil's tiny head was shaking, and she realized he was crying harder than ever, seas of red rushing to stain cheeks, his trembling lips.

The eyes of a wounded animal begging not to be put to sleep.

"I…I don't know what to do anymore. I'm all alone," His voice faded, a quiet rasp, a frightened whisper.

He was glass, then, she knew all too well he could break at any minute, knew all too well what it felt to bleed, to let your own skin sink in; deadly flaws.

_But this can't be happening. It **can't.** _

Demons didn't cry. It was demons who caused the tears to flow, demons who murdered, demons destroying homes, families, demons who brutally raped and ravaged and massacred with no regard for others. Lady could feel the darkness at her heels, needles prickling at her flesh, her blood boiling, recoiling in the minute pain of the congealing darkness before them, rushing to suffocate the boy at her heels.

Kalina Anne gleamed from Vergil's tiny torso-she stretched her hands out, needed to do _something._ Time was running out-

"I don't want you to die!"

Sobs, wracking his body. She could barely see him anymore; the darkness was growing too dense, too thick, but he was clutching onto her desperately, moaning in horror, tears streaming down his face, hands so fragile as they wrapped around her knees, his eyes red around the irises, his body was shaking all over, teeth chattering, he was going to implode from all the grief, because his mother was dying, he could do nothing-

"It's all my fault," He choked, pulled his head back, wide eyes staring at the sky, the millions of red eyes watching, waiting-

Lady's heart shattered. Vergil stared straight at her then, the boy's body wheezing, chest heaving, his eyes two broken mirrors, orbs full of pieces too sharp, too painful to pick up-

She saw herself in those eyes. Crying out to deaf ears, hands soaked in blood. Blaming herself. No one's fault but her own. Nothing to look forward to but vengeance, its cold steel pleasure.

_But he enjoys it! He thirsts for blood, requires it, his nourishment-_

Yet so did she…didn't she? The blood, the power, the revenge. Satisfaction…

Was it really any different?

All they really ever wanted was to fix things; make things better.

"Make it stop!" Vergil was screaming, his fingers ripping silvery hairs from his head, his mouth opened in an eternal scream-his screams making her blood curdle,

"Please, God, make it all go away!"

He was no longer screaming, but soundless; his mouth agape in a wide O, eyes shut, rocking back and forth, cradling himself. The blood on his hands he could never erase. The blood on their hands they could never wash away.

But foam was dribbling at the edges of the broken boy's mouth. Blood trickled from unseen wounds across his skin; even she could feel the darkness growing thick around them- he was coughing, fading, sputtering, his face was tinted blue, he couldn't breathe.

"Oh God," Lady whispered, realized suddenly what she had to do, what she should have done all along.

With nimble hands, she gripped the shaft of her Kalina Anne, eased it like butter through the boy's shaking torso, a bloody hole through his chest, only making him worse-a miracle he was still coughing, choking, his face violet now, his entire body a clot of blood.

"Hang on, Vergil," She murmured, felt him stiffen against her, his arms cold ice,

"M-mommy?"

Blood flowed in puddles down his lips as he spoke, tears in his drooping eyes. She nodded, kept herself from shaking as she raised the weapon, its leering blade,

"Just close your eyes now, okay? Mommy's going to fix things. She's always here for you, no matter what."

Words she never thought she would hear again, echoing in her lips. Words like seals to broken lives-final words. She wondered, as the white-haired boy began to droop towards the floor, weak and shuddering, if she was doing the right thing. She wondered if her father was out there, somewhere, knowing his child was about to disappear.

She wondered, as the brought the blade down, if it was worth it after all.

To try to repair something beyond fixing.

And now she shattered it completely, her mind a blank, as her Kalina Anne impaled her, straight through her broken heart. The roaring of the demon in her ears as it flew from her body, Vergil's resounding gasp as she fell.

Everything was black.

Lady could only wonder if Vergil would have done the same for her.


	5. The Virgin and the Clown

**I'm really surprised with how fast I'm making these chapters lately, but I really want to progress the story and introduce some of the familiar DMC 3 characters. And Vergil's reaction to Lady's predicament last chapter...I had fun writing it. It's easy lately because it's the weekend and I have no homework really, sooo yes...**

**I live for reviews Hehe. **

**Enjoy!**

* * *

_No._

The _bitch._

The stupid _whore._

The little cunt.

Why?

_Why?_

_**WHY?**_

His mind was chaos; Vergil could only stare at the crumpled figure of Lady on the ground, her pale, dormant chest, the bloody hole through her body, a cavern of red. Blood was mingling in her hair, fringes of red against the brown, caking her unnaturally white face like profane tattoos, drawings of death against her flesh.

He knew what had just happened. It had all been so clear, the image of her frail body suspended in mid-air, falling so slowly, her soft moans of pain as the blade tore through her flesh, gutted her insides, weighing her down down down against the ground… He had known as soon as he could think again, as soon as he was himself again, his demonic instincts hissing at the back of his mind; blood had been spilled, he had wanted to devour it, carnivorous, it had brought him back to full strength from just the smell of it. Of course, he had been enraged from the onset of awakening, having his most pathetically crippling thoughts viewed by not only a human-but a _woman,_ nonetheless, by Lady herself, but now-

Now he could only stare down, down at her broken body. How peaceful she looked, how delicate-a china doll, her tranquil expression, a glass corpse-

She wasn't.

She couldn't be.

Why would she?

Why would she _do_ such a thing?

What human would be so stupid as to sacrifice themselves for a _demon?! _His stomach lurched within his ribs, eyes darting wildly around him, hands clutching onto the sheath at his side, knuckles white as bone. He saw slivers of blonde in the mousy brown; saw the same corpse from so long ago; the sacrifice, the human weakness- _end your life in expense for others. _Selflessness, goddamn fucking flaws; to die for a demon, to die for _him_-

All he wanted was blood, all he needed was destruction. Vergil tried to think logically, but his mind refused to process-his chest was aching, his knees buckled at the sounds of flapping wings, the sight of scarlet eyes- They would all die. He would kill them _all._

A mangled scream; an enraged roar. It was his mother all over again-lying there, helpless, helping him-for what? For death, for pain-at his expense, a human dying for a demon…

"Bastards! I'll rip you all in half!"

Vergil's back was splitting painfully, bones shifting, skin burning away as if peeled by acid, wings protruding from the holes. Vergil's fingers elongated, canines the size of incisors, Yamato bloodthirsty at his side. In an instant, he was tearing leathery flesh, gouging eye after eye after eye, his wings billowing as he flew through the crowds of winged devils, impaled them on his blade like bloody kabobs. Adrenaline pulsed through his throbbing veins; he wanted tearing skin and shattered bone, he wanted screams of pain.

A demon flew at him, hundreds of tiny jaws bared-he slashed its face, watched it yelp in pain, bore the blade straight into its skull. Demon after demon rushed at him; the darkness was shifting, surrounding him, yet still he plunged forward, hacking limbs like leaves, bathing in seas of black blood, reveling in the squeals of pain, the agonized cries. Yamato stabbed through their hearts, reduced their insides to puddles on the ground, hacked wildly, stabbing at any source of movement surrounding him, blind to everything but to his own rage, his devil instinct. Blood rained from the stalactites, dripped in puddles on the ground, disappeared within the Earthy soil; then flooded, knee-deep beneath the altars, splattering against the stained glass windows, against the stony face of a Jesus on its cross.

His muscles ached as the final winged creature flew for him, squealing in high-pitched cries, its millions of fangs bared, its talons struggling to latch onto his body. With an inhuman cry from the depths of his throat, Vergil bore forward and sliced Yamato in a downward slash, straight through its leathery head, its spider-like legs, its wings flapping ferociously as its black innards spewed from the depths of its blistering wound, as it cried in pain. Pain. So much pain. He had learned how to deny it; how to reduce it to blasphemy within his bones, something only humans could feel, a mark of weakness on the flesh-

But it engulfed him now, made him strong, made him seething. The winged demon seemed to struggle, hanging limply in the air as its severed bones cracked, its eyes caked in black blood, still bearing forward for him; too slow, too weak. He pushed his blade straight through its disfigured face, reveled in the endless ebony that bubbled, oozed from its insides, slid it deeper and deeper through its body until it was up to the end of his blade, stuck within metal, he could almost feel the soft slickness of its brains as he slipped the blade entirely through, then brought it downwards in a swift motion with a satisfied snarl as it fell the ground, twitching, growing still.

The darkness dissipated, now. There was no trace left; retreating like thick smoke into the ground, the mutilated carcasses of its winged creators lying innumerable upon the altar, the wet earth beneath, soaked in bloodshed. He could see every stained glass window now, in wide arches just below the impossibly high ceiling-the gray stalactites like dripping fangs, the headless statues of saints, virgins, angels, surrounding him in a half-circle before the plain granite table upon the altar. A sacrificial table. Candles hovered about its every edge, flickering ebony flames, illuminating the cobwebbed altar ground elevated at least one hundred feet above the mossy earth below. Vergil glanced precariously over the edge; if a person fell, they would never know when they would drop-there was a thick white mist coalescing with the earth, shifting your perceptions of how close you were to death.

The son of Sparda realized then, that he could not possibly go on. There was a door beyond the stone table, past the rows and rows of beheaded statues-holy relics of this room's past; he knew it would be easy to open, now that the creatures had been all destroyed. He knew he could progress throughout the tower with ease now, destroy the few demons before him, cutting them to pieces with his Yamato at his side. He could complete his goal, his objective so easily-

But Lady's figure bore into his mind, possessed it with more frightening fervor than any demon could. It haunted his thoughts, caused him to turn in the cold air and face her crippled body, her unmoving eyes.

"Mary," Vergil could only whisper, falling upon his knees near her outstretched frame.

He was compelled to stay with her, to struggle and find a way of revival. It was strange; the half-demon had never before been compelled to aid a human…yet he had never been helped by one…with the exception of his mother. Gingerly he brought a hand to her chest-hesitant, fingers delicately stroking the gaping hole left by her attempt at suicide to rid him of his possession. Why had she done it? They both knew she should have let him die there if she had any sanity in her, should have escaped the pact, his enslavement of her.

But…she hurt herself to help him in the end. And…he had helped her too, hadn't he? He had lied, told her he was using her…but they were both here, now. Whether she was alive, he did not know. The demon found himself sniffing at her torso, searching for a heartbeat, any sign of life…there must be _something,_ _anything…_

And then he heard it.

A pulse.

It was barely there; a ghost of a whisper, a murmur in a river of blood. But it existed, it could be saved. Their pact was bound by blood, wasn't it?

Yes.

The only way he could help her now came to mind as he brought the cold blade of Yamato against his hand, winced as he let it bite into his skin. Blood burst forth like a dam-darker in color than hers, intoxicating, a deep violet, yet still with some trace of human. Sparda and Eva running in his veins, a river of timeless desecration. Slowly, Vergil tipped up the back of Lady's head, brought his hand to her soft lips. He brushed a bit of blood onto her mouth, against her tongue, hoping for a reflex, a response. His white hair fell against his upturned face, his scowl as he brought his bloody fingers against her lips, struggled again and again to let it drip down her throat, he couldn't let her become a carcass, food for any demon that would prowl within this place, they had a pact, they had-

The smallest of swallows. It was almost undetectable, but his sharp eyes had caught sight of it; the way her jaw sloped upward, her muscles contracting, the smallest twitch of her tongue. Vergil could almost hear a shudder of breath, could almost see a trace of movement in her lips. She may have been severely injured, may have even been in comatose, may have been slipping away that instant-

But she was still _alive._

He stabbed himself again, Yamato slicing at his thumb, at his palm, watched the blood ooze in thick, slow currents down his fingertips, slipping across her lips, warming her tongue. At first it would gather at the depths of her throat, bubbling against the saliva, and then her body would instantly respond; a reflex, gagging on the liquid-she would cough, her slight figure rattled by the sudden intensity of her wheezing, her small swallows, droplets of his blood spraying from her lips and pooling against her chin. Lady's breath was stronger, now; still thin and unsure within her lungs, yet he could hear it whispering against her insides, he could feel her growing stronger, watched the flush in her pale cheeks-

"Arkham…" A moan from her blood-soaked lips, startling him.

The human in his arms was barely breathing, yet she was gasping, wheezing in desperation, her mouth weakly slurring together the name as if it were something precious, something she needed to have him hear in its urgency. Rage boiled within him at the sound of the name so weakly uttered from her lips; his white brows knitted upon his perfect face, yet before Vergil could retort, or withdraw his bloodied hand from her groaning lips, a chuckle filled the air that caused him to nearly jump in shock.

They were not alone.

Forgetting the huntress in his arms for a moment, Vergil spun around on the balls of his feet, Yamato gleaming in his hands despite the black blood marring its surface. His cerulean orbs darted fiercely, rapidly throughout the area, struggling to find the source of the laughter. It continued, rolling across the walls; high-pitched and screaming, as if taunting them. In an instant Vergil was on his feet, probing the statues before him, the beheaded Jesus on its crucifix, hanging limply above the stone table.

"Bravo, bravo! What a marvelous show!"

The half-demon nearly screamed in surprise. A head protruded from the severed stone neck, paler than any marble statue, paler even than Vergil himself. The strange, laughing head's face was streaked in white makeup, caked and sloppy and smelling of some strange, putrid odor, the opened orifice upon his face displaying rows upon rows of tiny, rotting green teeth that seemed to sink into his gums. His nose was long and prominent upon his face, resembling the beak of some strange animal-his thin, cracked lips and wide eyes caked in loud violet powder, eyes so wide and so yellow around the pupils he appeared to have no irises; the black centers diluted, holes straight into the heart of insanity.

Vergil's first instinct was to rush for him with his Yamato, stab through his wretched laughing little mouth-but he contained himself, merely gripping the handle of his blade tightly, pushing it forward as he walked towards the statue, his mouth a twisted snarl,

"What in _hell_ are you? What are you doing here?"

The clown-for he could only use the word "clown" to describe such a hideous, strangely misshapen thing as the gangly face before him, brought its thin legs up against the Jesus' back, leaping upon its neck so that he was in full display. Grinning broadly (again, Vergil found himself cringing at his rotten teeth), the Jester shook his thin, clown-headed staff within the air before him, his entire body shaking in rhythm to a nonexistent song,

"Ooh, very good, _very good! _This shows the _other _son of Sparda has much more patience than his…_lesser half._"

At this, the Jester burst into laughter once again, twirling his staff in his hands and jumping up and down upon the battered Messiah's neck. Vergil thought he could hear its stone body begin to crumble, yet at the moment he was more interested by the clown's last statement,

"Dante is still pursuing me, then?" He murmured, as if to himself, for his eyes narrowed as he realized this strange clown seemed to know more than any other creature that both he and his fool brother were within the tower, "How do you know of us…of Sparda?"

At once, Vergil's blade was brought before him in a flourish, its reflective surface flaunting the cold, icy stare of his eyes as he brought himself closer to the clown leering down at him from his position atop the statue. He could gut him right now if he wanted to; he wondered if the Jester knew how close he could be to standing before his death.

"Ooh!" As if reading his thoughts, the Jester began to tremble, his teeth chattering in exaggerated fear, eyes protuberant and pestilent, "Now ickle Vergil is going to hurt me because I know too a _wittle toomuch! _Ooh, I'm SHAKING IN MY BOOTS!"

His words become a shout reverberating throughout the room as he leapt forward, much faster than Vergil had anticipated. The Jester was in the air above him, a menacing grin upon its elongated face, Vergil bringing his Yamato in an attempt to slash at his body, wipe that sickening smirk from his twisted features. But Jester merely bounced lithely off the tip of his blade, twirled theatrically in the air, hitting him across the head with his staff before landing on the ground behind him with a wide bow.

"Thank you, _thank you_!" Jester hissed to none in particular, constantly dipping his head downwards so that the bells on his clown's hat jingled, the figurehead on his staff opening its mouth to shrilly chuckle. Vergil felt something wet on the side of his head-and realized, with a grimace, that Jester had cut at his temple, made him bleed. What _was_ this thing?

"What do you want, _clown_?" Vergil growled, as Jester bounced to and fro upon the heels of his feet, prancing in a circle around Lady's coughing, barely conscious frame.

"I want to know why the SON of almighty SPARDA is tending to a wittle bitty human girl! It would be entertaining if it weren't so…_disgusting_," The clown sneered, one of his curved feet pushing downwards against Lady's stomach.

She groaned in pain, her eyes opening abruptly, tear-streaked, struggling to roll over, away from him. The clown snarled, chuckled, drove a foot straight into her wound, the bloodied hole. Lady screamed, twitched, tried to push away despite her weakened state. At her scream, Vergil was rushing towards the clown, pushing Yamato straight towards his face. Jester let out a shriek of surprise as the blade came towards his nose, yet in an instant Vergil was left scowling in irritation as Yamato hit the metal of Jester's staff, and the clown was standing with each foot planted upon Lady's shoulders, chuckling insanely,

"And so you still defend her, almighty dark prince!" His voice was theatrically low, eyes glinting with wicked mirth as he began to push the balls of his feet downwards onto Lady's collarbone, a sickening cracking sound filling the air as her eyes widened and she cried out. Vergil found himself glaring at Jester in disgust, his limbs filled anew with adrenaline. His wings had disappeared, the demon side had melted away in his attempts to revive the fallen Lady, yet now he knew the rage that filled him could enable him to become stronger again, to rip this _thing_ to shreds-

"But why does wittle Vergil throw a tantwum? Doesn't he want to hear what Jester has to say?!" The clown's cooing baby voice was edged with wicked amusement, as he jumped back from Lady's twitching, groaning body and faced the half-demon with his penetrating, almost frightening stare.

"I don't think I want to hear another word from you, clown," Vergil retorted sharply, his eyes fixated on Jester's hideous features yet wanting to concentrate on the wounded girl between them, "Why don't I just do us both a favor and rip your filthy tongue out?"

At first the clown seemed to hesitate, taken aback by Vergil's piercing gaze, the way in which he twirled his Yamato, the hostility edging his voice. But then he let out another screaming laugh, throwing his arms out as if to engulf the sight of the enraged half-demon before him, the inanimate human,

"Ooh, _what brave words!" _His voice a haughty, almost monstrous sneer, as he backed away slowly from the growling Vergil, staff jumping from hand to hand, "I came because I was concerned that you would never be able to get past this room-after viewing all your _wonderful_ memories and being so _touched_ by that stupid little girl's actions! Pure drama, my friend, but you were such marvelous little actors that I couldn't _bear_ to let you both perish!"

How Vergil ached to just impale him and shut him up. But regardless of Jester's shrieking laughter, his rolling eyes spewing anything but kinship, his words had peaked curiosity. Perhaps he would humor him just long enough to find an open space, catch him off guard and tear him limb from limb.

"All right, clown," Vergil retorted, raising a white brow in sharp skepticism as he pointed his Yamato straight towards Jester's cackling face, "Anything to shut you up."

"Ahhh, just like your wittle bwother, ickle Vergil!" Jester nearly cried with glee, clapping his hands together and prancing in another half-circle around Vergil, who, despite his unnatural quickness found it difficult to keep up with the dancing clown. "You see, wittle Vergil, there is a secret to this room, something I doubt you could figure out on your own!"

Vergil wondered if Jester was telling the truth; he had heard of no secret to leaving this particular area save for destroying the source of the darkness; yet there was a catch, wasn't there? No clown made an offer without a catch.

"What do you really want, clown?" He hissed, wondering just how sinister Jester's intentions could become.

The clown gave a sickly smile then, his blackened tongue rolling between his teeth like ebony waves, causing Vergil to wince in disgust. With a flourish of his staff, Jester somersaulted in the air, landing just behind Lady's outstretched figure, the miniature clown head pointed straight for her.

Vergil unsheathed Yamato almost instantly.

"No no no, that's not how we go about sealing _our _deals!" In a flicker of light, Jester disappeared from his position behind Mary to the stone table, where the cluster of statuettes stood with their severed heads.

The fucking coward.

The devil prince could only bring himself to stare at the clown, who proceeded to jump from statue to statue, his head peeking out from between their sacred legs, always too fast for him to strike at,

"What shall it be, devil boy?! Tell you the way out, exchange for the girl?! Simple _logic_, wouldn't you agree? Ha-ha!" A series of high-pitched giggles, and the half-demon found himself more frustrated than ever.

He changed a glance back at Lady-her eyes were shut, he could still hear her breathing.

"What will you do with her?" His voice was tenser than he had planned; wanting to come off as aloof, uncaring, yet at the moment he no longer cared if Jester could read his mind.

The clown gave a simpering smile, hopped up and down on the balls of his feet,

"Oh-ho-ho-_ho_!That is none of your concern, my dearest devil! But if you _really_ want to know…"

The clown's smile surpassed his ears, bearing his hideously eroding teeth. Jester poked his head behind the stone figure of the Virgin Mary, ran his long, ebony tongue down its severed throat,

"Let's just say our little Virgin Mary will no longer live up to her namesake, hmmm?"

It took all Vergil's resolve not to vomit in the damned clown's face. Jester cackled, beady yellow eyes narrowing, "I see that look! You know that's what they're all good for, the human women! Fuck them, kill them, fuck them again, make them bleed and scream, I've done it before, _I'LL DO IT AGAIN_-"

Vergil never heard the end of the clown's song. Suddenly, an ear-splitting blast caused the ground to rattle, smoke billowing in the air, the smell of charcoal as Jester's screams of surprise shattered the air, and… was that a cry of pain he just heard? As Vergil shielded himself from a downpour of rock, he saw a figure limp forward into plain view; Lady hunched over on the smoking surface of her Kalina Anne, her chest heaving, eyes ablaze with fire,

"Damn clown-don't you _ever_ shut up?!"

He had forgotten her weapon was more than just a blade, yet what stunned him was the sudden realization she had been strong enough to even carry it. Lady's wound looked worse than ever- it was bruised in black rings around the edges, dried blood soaking half her torso, yet she was breathing, animated, more alive than ever.

She should have been dead.

But she wasn't.

And then it came to him-

She simply refused to.

As the smoke cleared, his cerulean and her multi-colored orbs surveyed the damage of her cannon; the Virgin Mary reduced to rubble, angels' wings pillars of dust on the ground. They saw the clown, doubled over beneath the beheaded Christ, a snarl twisting his milk-white face, his menacing glare,

"It looks as if the Virgin has risen! And oh, she's tried to penetrate me-" Slivers of blood dribbled down from between Jester's fingers, his hand covering his torso as he coughed madly, as if keeping his vital organs from falling to the floor, "But I'll be the one to penetrate _you_! Mark my words, I'll make you both scream!"

Jester burst into laughter so erratic his head twisted in circles upon his shoulders, eyes rolling in their sockets. Bowing theatrically (yet wincing at his wound), a flash of blinding violet light and he was gone.

Lady collapsed to her knees; Vergil found himself rushing towards her out of some strange urge-yet stopped himself from getting too close, realizing he had almost shown…concern? No, anything but that-instead, he crossed his arms, sheathed Yamato, turned his head away from her, though his body lingered near her kneeling frame as she clutched onto her weapon for support,

"How…did you get up?" He asked, cursing himself for the strange softness of his voice, a foreign sound even to his own ears, "I thought you were going to die, stupid girl."

Vergil found himself snarling as Lady's sacrifice came to mind; the panic he had felt, the strange human emotions stinging his body like toxic, like a poison eroding his steel composure he had so carefully managed to maintain for all these years. How she, a human, could do such a thing, when he had always thought her stupid, naïve, a common whore…it went against everything every perception, every common knowledge of any human; the women with their weak bodies, their inability to defend themselves, their disgusting sexual tendencies. The devil was grateful, however, that he was resorting to his usual aloofness in addressing her; better to offend than to become soft, stupid.

But Lady merely stared down at the ground, gazed at her own exhausted reflection in the marble earth,

"I can't die yet. Not until I've finished him."

The half-demon knew immediately whom she was addressing. How couldn't he? He

had seen it, first hand in her memories…and she had seen-

Damn it all. A human, knowing of his horrific flaws. A human after vengeance…just like him.

"And so you plan on dying, when you are finished with your pathetic little human ordeal?"

How easy it was, even then, to mask his thoughts with coldness. Lady's shoulders twitched, stiffened at his words-and then almost as quickly as it had occurred, simply slumped toward the ground,

"I plan on letting anything happen to me. The world can have its way with me when I'm finished. Nothing else really matters anymore."

For a moment, the devil thought he could smell the sharp scent of tears. He slowly walked forward until he was just behind her, gazing down at her slouched frame, the submissive gesture of her leaning neck, her hair still matted with the red of her own blood. The blood shed for him, when it should have never been, should have stayed within her skin, should have kept her strong enough to achieve her goals. Self-survival was key. Didn't she know that?

"Then _why_ did you nearly kill yourself? Why didn't you just go on and track him down, use my moment of weakness to find Arkham and destroy him once and for all?!"

Stupid human girl, with her stupid sense of chivalry; the stuff of petty fairytales, books caked in dust reduced to animal feed, wrinkled pages and burning ashes. Didn't she know, virtue was not a saving grace in the depths of Hell-didn't she know that they were _devils_, demons, all of them, ruthless, relentless-he could rip her throat out right now if he wanted to, she was so weak, he could so easily tear her spine in half and have no regrets.

Why would she spare someone like him? Why, when he had never shown a shred of humanity to her?

But Lady simply turned her head over her shoulder, looking back at Vergil with her multi-colored eyes. Her lips lifted softly to form a small smile; sympathetic, almost, pristine and startling in its sadness. They were heavy eyes, eyes worn down by years of tears, almost shining in the dim light,

"…Because I'm just a stupid human, with stupid emotions."

With one strong pull on the top of her weapon, she managed to hoist herself to her feet, struggling even then to hide her limp as she walked steadily forward. Suppressing her weaknesses, hiding in every step she took, even her name was suppressing a weakness; she wanted to be a higher form of human, she wanted to be supernatural-of course she did, she was a human fighting demons, devils, clowns…

"Lady."

She stopped in her tracks, raised her head. He hesitated, unsure of why he had said her name; he merely wanted to, wanted to stop her, didn't want her to leave him so far behind. But Vergil couldn't question why he had done it-he was too confused for his own impulse to handle, a foundation of hatred and hostility for his weaker self torn to shreds in the eyes of a ridiculous girl.

For some reason, it felt as if she understood. She walked forward, tried the heavy stone door, found it budging open-slowly, but surely. Vergil didn't dare aid her; he didn't want to appear as if he had any concern for her, and he doubted Lady would accept any sort of aid whatsoever.

The door swung open, and she limped through, grit her teeth in determination; she was applying pressure to the pain, testing her limits. As Lady disappeared through the threshold, Vergil said nothing more.

All he could do now was follow.


	6. Stockholm Syndrome

**THANK YOU TO EVERONE YET AGAIN FOR THEIR REVIEWS! It makes me so happy reading them I'm afraid this chapter isn't as good as the others; I wanted to use it as…a transition, I guess, to more plot later on. AND DANTE IS COMING! YAY! This chapter is just pure interaction between Vergil and Lady. It's one of the more mature ones in the sense that there's slight…vulgarity, in swearing and sexuality. Yes. You read right. I have to get some sexual tension across sometime, don't I? This chapter will be oozing with it. And so, I apologize for any shakiness in the writing style-much better chapters later on, I promiseeeeee.**

**Happy reading!**

**

* * *

**

How deep did Temen-Ni-Gru go? The tower seemed as if it sank deeper within the earth with every step they took, as if reaching restlessly with its stony limbs, full of hope, for the hell beneath. What else could explain the area they were suddenly standing in?

They stood upon a narrow strip of rocky land, an island of stone surrounded by miles of endless running water, crystalline downward streams that seemed to foam white at the edges, menacing in its beauty. Cold air coalesced in frost within every breath Lady took, misted fog that seemed to rise from nowhere, dissipate just as quickly as it had come. But as effortless as it was for the white smoke to sweep from her lips, it was clear that her lungs were having trouble keeping up.

Lady's bi-colored eyes winced in pain as she brought a hand gingerly to her collarbone, tenderly fingered the staunched yet prominent, throbbing wound at her stomach. If Jester hadn't been abruptly removed by Vergil from his balancing act upon her bones, she was sure he would have killed her right there; she remembered feeling her windpipe burst into flames within her body, about to break in two, her mind racing, eyes choked with tears. Her travels with Vergil for the past few hours had been more near-death experiences than she had ever had in her entire life; and, glancing at the half-demon through the corner of her cobalt-russet irises, she could only wonder how he managed to still appear in top form.

If he wasn't so…sickening in his thirst for power, in his ruthlessness in dispatching of his enemies, Lady could almost be grateful for what he had done for her. The visions she had seen, the way he had aided her time and time again-even through their most recent encounter with the strange...clown that had tried to fool them, he had kept her from getting more wounded than necessary. Confusion reduced her mind to a pounding twinge between her temples; Lady decided it would be best to stop thinking of such irrelevant things as the emotions of a demon, when she had her life goal at hand. She was so close to fulfilling her pact, knowing Arkham himself was still within the tower-Lady could almost sense his presence in the chill of her bones, the carnal depths of her heart.

Balancing upon her Kalina Ann for support, the huntress bit her lip to feign a cry of pain as she realized her legs were about to give way beneath her. Every bone within her joints crackled with electric pain; a current of lightning threatening to split her in half, pain that would have reduced her to a hospital bed if she were not within this tower, if she still possessed human sanity. And not only was she still hurting from the recent attacks upon her body, more than a normal human body could accommodate at full strength-she was suddenly damn _cold._

Lady's common sense chided her for being dressed in her carelessly…un-travel suited apparel, but instead of imitating the stony silent Vergil at her side, her teeth chattered and she hopped from foot to foot, her arms folded before her chest. At least she could concentrate on the cold to get her mind off the pain that continue to adamantly push at every inch of skin, every tendon and joint within her. Lady wondered if this was what Vergil did, if he was ever battered to the point of death. She wondered if this was how he lived his life, destroying everything in his path in favor of attaining power, if every slice of Yamato into flesh was for his greater good.

"Is this some human ritual, or have you simply gone insane?"

Vergil's words were precise from his sharp tongue, cutting into her short-lived preoccupation in keeping herself warm like the curve of a crescent. Lady had grown accustomed to his retorts in their short-lived time spent together; the huntress had learned to take his words as if he were merely being just another friendly bastard.

"This is what we sane beings like to call keeping warm," She trembled, and, fighting the urge to simply rip his temptingly warm overcoat from his shoulders, yet feeling unnaturally bold, she mumbled coaxingly, "I don't suppose you have room in there for two?"

Lady braced herself for another snide remark, realizing she no longer cared, yet Vergil suddenly hesitated, and then-

Scowling, the white-haired demon shrugged his powder blue coat from one shoulder, and-reluctantly, with a grimace etched so deeply along his features and his body shifted so far from her own it was as if she were tainted-offered the dangling half, sleeve and all, to Lady.

The raven-haired girl stood there, dumbfounded. What could she possibly say? The half-devil, son of Sparda, murderer of humans and demons alike, devil who so desperately wanted pure power, was offering her half his jacket.

Something was off about this.

"Considering you don't plan on living after we complete the ends of our pact, I might as well keep your pathetically weak body conscious enough so I don't have to drag your dead weight about this tower. Don't think I'm just being sweet,"

Vergil's voice was a hiss, yet his head was turned away from hers so that all she could see was his silvery hair, the back of his elegantly pale neck. Had she expected a kind gesture? No, she shouldn't be that foolish. Even if the Vergil she had seen in his demonic thrall as a child had once existed, he no longer lay within the dormant devil that took such pleasure in his cruelties. Of course, she had learned that the half-devil was more complex than she had imagined; perhaps it was due to the human side that she had no doubt still existed within his scowling face, the way he had saved her now-not once, but twice, just as she had spared him…

But was it terrible that a part of her had hoped she would have died back there?

Was it horrible that the huntress was looking forward to the wonderful relief after destroying Arkham once and for all-the eternal sleep?

She was like a ghost in that sense, living only to tend to her unfinished past. No other purpose, but to destroy. And now Vergil was staring down at the top of her head, skin almost translucent in the dim cavern's glow, his eyes a blue abyss. A ghost, just like her, in his own way. She wondered if he, too, wanted death. Sleep. Instinctively, Lady pushed slightly away from his offered coat, the cold becoming an all-too familiar penetration to her tired limbs, bones weighed down along the years.

This was how it had always been-frozen, detached, the world a dream, eclipsed by her own nightmares. She could expect nothing else but frostbite beyond the illusion, pain like toxin within running water to her parched heart. Hospitality was an abstract concept; there was substance in pain, something real.

But Lady didn't expect to be warmed by the coldest of all. A sudden rush of fire kindled her senses, caused her to gasp in shock, twitching slightly in bewilderment at the sudden insistency of hospitality; the forcible hands, strong against her small shoulders like the sun, the way the entire coat dwarfed her body, a blue sky; sleeves dangling to her knees, ends trailing across the ground like the train of a dress.

She felt the warmth bud to her cheeks, thaw the scarlet flush beneath. Lady was staring at the half-devil who seemed determined to gaze at the stony floor, glancing at her from the corners of his eyes, an awkward expression upon his face-he wasn't used to doing such things, wasn't accustomed to offering anything to others; clothing, she could imagine, the _least_ of all.

And here she was, gawking at him; unable to say anything. All she could do was swear beneath her breath as she realized her entire face was a shade of pink.

"You can't deny me when I offer you these things, woman," Vergil muttered scathingly, and as she turned to face him she realized his head was still pointed away from her, seemingly preoccupied with examining the floor below, "Demons are naturally cold-blooded; this gives advantage over you human mammals."

"I'm glad you were worrying about my health," Lady mumbled, the strange, warm sensation blooming within her insides, intoxicating; she wanted to consume the warmth like a drink, let it overtake her as she nuzzled the collar of his coat, "But if you never grow cold, why do you have a jacket in the first place?"

Vergil merely snorted, turned his face sharply in her direction-an awkward angle, as if he would rather sprain his neck than allow his eyes to meet hers, no matter how she stared-and examined the waters before them. Lady could feel her lips form automatically into a smirk, realizing she had discussed the subject that Vergil was most uncomfortable in discussing-his human side. Yet he was being better about it; the last time she had chided him for harboring human blood, he had nearly killed her. Perhaps it was because he knew if he so much as stabbed her at this point, she would die right here-she found it hard to believe he actually considered her of more worth than a tool, or a decoy. Hadn't he told her himself that she didn't matter?

Of course, Vergil would have traits that no other demon would have, sharing human blood; a human form, the ability to become cold, to eat normal food; she wondered if he had an actual home, if he slept in an actual bed…

"Are you enjoying the view, woman?"

She flushed, realized he had caught her staring at him while she was pondering. What had compelled her to do it in the first place? Lady turned her head, her scowl matching that of the equally flustered half-devil, their backs facing one another as they stared out at the endless expanse of flowing water surrounding them. The raven-haired huntress realized her companion was wearing an unnaturally tight black shirt beneath his jacket; she had caught sight of his shapely pecs, the taut stomach she could imagine as white as snow. Lady couldn't even recall when she had last seen a man so perfect from the mere outlines of his muscles; had been so close to another male body before that was not a relation. The image of his rippling physique seemed to imprint itself into her mind, burn into her body with an unfamiliar feeling of…lust? No. He wasn't even completely human. That's why he was so perfect. It was all just an illusion; she knew he could also be winged and monstrous, fanged and bloodthirsty…

But it still didn't help that he was nearly half-naked, and she _was_, in human terms, a teenager. Hormones weren't exactly out of her system, and as irritating as it was that Lady could possibly allow such carnal emotions to penetrate her spirit at this point, she had to acknowledge it. Subconsciously, she pulled Vergil's overcoat closer to her flushed face, found herself murmuring softly,

"It isn't my fault you wear…things like that underneath your overcoat."

She met his eyes for a moment, felt the blue flames of his irises scorch her in their stunning intensity. Lady caught her breath and cradled Kalina Ann at her side, a lingering feeling of violation causing her to senses to sharpen, though he was doing nothing but watching her. The huntress thought she had gotten used to his piercing stares, his glares of indignation; but now it was recognition, no hostility or superiority in his flame-lidded eyes. It was something different; something she couldn't, didn't want to identify with.

"You didn't notice my attire before? I thought you would have, the way your eyes always follow me. They betray you, woman,"

His voice was a smirk in itself; haughty, a gateway into her mind. She could smell his smugness like a revolting stench to her nostrils; but she couldn't deny it. She wouldn't give him the satisfaction of watching her struggle with herself; she was _human_, after all, and nothing but. Instead she merely shrugged her tired shoulders,

"You obviously enjoy the attention, don't you? I wouldn't expect less."

A hollow chuckle from his lips; he raised a silvery brow, infinitely handsome in his bastardly demeanor. Cerulean orbs scanned her attire beneath his coat with a critical air; Lady wanted nothing more than to slap him at this point, to toss his jacket into the watery depths below.

"And what would you call a woman running around in her underwear to fight off demons?"

Lady crossed her arms before her chest, felt her blush deepen. Her shorts were _not_ underwear, but she couldn't argue with him-she had just chastised herself for choosing such apparel in the environment around them. But it was her only outfit-she couldn't tell him that, of course. Why be sentimental with Satan?

"I'd call her determined," She muttered, narrowing her eyes in his direction and pushing past him to face the edge of the stone island they stood upon.

Clutching the coat close to her body, Lady wondered how on Earth they would be able to continue…did they hit a dead end? But as she found herself standing on the tips of her toes, craning her neck to follow Vergil's gaze across the waters, she realized he was staring at an impossibly high stone pillar and strip of land miles upon miles across, jutting out to pierce the darkness above. They couldn't possibly swim that far with the risk of demons in the water, and she was already pathetically weak. Lady sighed in irritation at their predicament, wondering if the Jester's words of warning to them earlier had not been entirely false.

"I don't suppose you can fly," She muttered half-wittedly, a morbid joke in the midst of their situation as she wracked her brain for possible methods of transportation.

Vergil grew hesitant again, an expression of pure venom marring his features.

Oh God.

"Don't-don't tell me…" Instantly, she began to back away, her heeled boots making imprints in the gravel with the urgency of her steps, "You're not going to…"

"As much as I would rather tear off my legs and shove them down my throat, I see it as a necessity to do what it takes to reach the other side…don't you?"

Lady was the one to hesitate, now. This would mean encountering Vergil in his demonic state, and…would this require bodily contact? Her fraternally paired eyes raked over his figure once again in contemplation; she would have to cling to him, her fingertips molded against his chest, her legs wrapped around his hips…

"If you're wondering whether I'm going to dangle you from your leg in mid-air and drop you in the desire to see you drown, I've contemplated it, but I've decided it is _not_ the best method of action at this moment."

She realized he was growing impatient with her, his voice taking on a tone of exasperation. It wasn't _her_ fault the strip of land on the other side was the only way to cross further into the depths of the Tower. It wasn't _her_ fault that they were both stuck here-Vergil wanted power, she wanted revenge. So why, if she _knew_ that the only way to progress further was to come into actual physical contact with Vergil, was she so hesitant?

Perhaps it was because he was glaring at her as if she were a diseased carcass he had no choice but to carry. Wanting to break the sudden awkward silence in which Vergil watched her with obvious hostility while she simply shifted uncomfortably in her combat boots, Lady cleared her throat and willed herself to speak,

"So…what is your method of action you seem to be so disgusted by, if I even want to know?"

To her sudden surprise, the devil broke into a deep sigh. Lady tilted her raven head and examined his flawless features, which seemed to be marred with a look of deep loathing…though whether it was meant for her, she wasn't sure. Slowly, Vergil extended his shapely arms to either side, his Yamato glinting with mirth. As his blue eyes began to glitter and coalesce with a sudden violent shade of red, Lady began to grasp at what he had in mind,

"Are you sure you want to…I mean…I…"

Lady watched in silent horror as the half-devil's skin began to flush a violent shade, as if a disease had infested his veins and distorted his coloring. His entire body seemed to her the color of a suffocated corpse, and she found herself mentally cringing at the sound of bones shifting within his body. She struggled to keep herself composed at the almost terrifying sight of his blood-shot eyes, the extra skin that suddenly protruded from his back, bony and almost bloody within the dim light. What was once perfectly trimmed nails lengthened expanded to ebony claws strong enough to tear into skin with one swipe. Finally managing to shut her eyes, Lady took in a deep breath, flinching at the sound of his crackling bones, practically hiding in Vergil's coat as she struggled to remove the imprint of his transforming figure from her mind. She could have seen every vein on his body protruding from his skin and shifting into blue scales, the popping of his eyes into glowing, inhuman slits, the endless wings boasting power upon their sharpened edges-

"There's no time to waste being squeamish, woman," Vergil's voice, edged with disgust, reverberated along her senses, causing her to shudder and forcibly open her eyes to face the man before her.

Could she even call him a man any longer? He was a full devil, now, his scaled body shimmering in the dim light with an eerie incandescence, as if the blue of the lapping waters had formed a second skin upon his body. He still wore his…_human_ attire, Yamato obediently at his side, yet everything from his once-white hair, now a dense tuft of electric blue, to his eyes marred with specks of blood floating in rings outside his pupils caused her heart to lurch within her chest.

Was this what it felt like to be in the presence of Satan?

_No_, he was nothing like that. This was still Vergil Sparda, the half-devil pact-partner who had traveled with her throughout Temen-Ni-Gru and taken her this far. If it wasn't for him, she may not be _alive-_

But if it wasn't for _him,_ Arkham wouldn't be here in the first place.

If it wasn't for this devil standing before her…would Arkham even have sacrificed her mother, destroyed her life, utterly and completely?

"Lady," Vergil's hissing voice broke the prison of her thoughts, shackled her to his steady gaze, "Get on my shoulders. We don't have time to waste daydreaming, girl."

The last word fell from his lips as if it were a profanity. Lady narrowed her eyes and squared her shoulders, glancing once more out at the huge expanse of water before them. It could have been called a Lake in its length; the thick blue waters mottled with black, appearing heavier than any normal liquid-as if it had something hidden beneath its depths. She couldn't see the bottom even if she tried-she wondered if there _was_ a bottom. Glancing testily at the devil nearby, she bit her lip and wondered if she had gotten too far into Hell to pull herself out.

"Can you handle my weight?" She inquired, pulling herself behind the devil and-flinching slightly at the flicker of his wings in the dim light, hesitantly placed her fingers upon his smooth-scaled back.

Vergil's ember-flecked eyes glared scarlet indignation across his shoulder, his fanged mouth tightening into a haughty sneer,

"If I can handle your weight, I can handle anything."

Resisting the urge to dig the heels of her combat boots into his shins, Lady wrapped her arms around the back of his neck; her Kalina Ann slung upon her back, and jumped up quickly to wrap her legs tightly around his hips. Hearing a grunt from Vergil, she suddenly flushed as she realized that her limbs had brushed up against the front of his pants, feeling the unnaturally hard spot of fabric between his legs. As if their little episode before had not been enough to invoke her girlish hormones, she realized his scales in devil form were not as rough as she had thought; instead they felt simply like slick human flesh, if not slightly rougher; her hands were splayed across his chest where his shirt opened, her head buried against the crook of his shoulder, hips heaved upward to keep her balanced as she clung to his back. It was an awkward position, considering that her…anatomical build required her breasts to be pressed against his hard back, the center of her shorts practically grinding against him from behind with every breath she took.

Lady felt that Vergil, too, shared some of her awkward observations. He paused for an unnaturally long time, his hands upon the bottoms of her thighs to keep her hoisted up against him, pulling her closer for comfort. She could smell his scent, a strangely alluring combination of exotic cologne and burnt charcoal, something ultimately masculine even in the pinpricks of sweat against the back of his neck…she could feel his steady breath nearby as she brought her head close to his cheek, a strange warmth emanating from every inch of his skin, the wings on either side of her body serving only to keep her close to him, close enough that the cold air caused her nipples to harden; she wondered if he could feel them against his back, and her face throbbed with embarrassment at her thoughts.

"Vergil," She murmured against his neck, felt him stiffen, standing as erect as a stone statue, "I don't know if this is going to work. What if Jester…"

"We can try," He retorted; although his voice was usually jagged and supercilious, it had a sudden softness to it-strange that, even in devil form, he seemed so unbelievably complex, so…_human. _

The huntress nodded against his neck, felt a rumbling against his throat-a growl, perhaps?-as sharp gusts of wind began to funnel all around her, engulfing her in cold air. Lady clung so tightly to Vergil she was practically grinding against him in wild fervor; the air was a roar as his wings tore through them, the strong muscles of his back flexing against her body, causing her to shudder; her ears nearly popped, filled to the brim of the drowning noise of the roaring wind, and suddenly she was light-headed, she was almost screaming, her body felt as if it were being suspended on a hook and pulled fluidly through the air, her innards churning fiercely within her body-

They were in the air; the raven-haired huntress could only gasp in bewildered panic; she had always been afraid of heights, yet all at once could not help but be amazed at Vergil's raw power, so strong that he could carry her upon his back while in devil form, flying rapidly through the air. She wondered how much energy it took, wondered if Dante could have done the same feat with such effortlessness. The air was almost suffocating, tearing through her nostrils and whipping her ebony locks into her tear-streaked eyes, her lungs skewered by the pinpricks of cold wind stabbing at her body as he continued to fly, his wings a blur on either side of her, trapping her in a prison of distorted blues and blacks.

She was sure if this lasted any longer, she would suffocate. Straining to open her eyes against the blurring colors and liquefied objects zooming past her, Lady could make out the seas of black below, could almost see within their thick depths-were they that high, close enough that any wrong movement on his part would impale them through the stalactites above? She kept her legs wrapped tightly around his torso, felt his strong limbs work within his body as he flapped his wings ferociously, tore through the moist air, a low growl from his mouth; she realized it was pain, the physical labor of having to carry her, having to push himself through the rippling winds in full form. She held closer onto him as she felt him heave so forcefully through the skies that they were falling, the wind slackening around them, her heart rippling, blood thick within her skin from the sudden rush of cold, the air withdrawing from her burning ears-they were on the ground again, her body trembling against his, sweat pouring in steady canals from her skin to mingle with his own.

Vergil was shaking-Lady realized it was nearly unnoticeable save for the slight twitch of his shoulders, the shudder in his blue-veined arms. Gingerly she pulled her arms away from his throat, her fingers tracing his back, the black shirt like a second skin with the downpour of sweat. The huntress wondered if she should say something, ask him if he was alright-but with this man, she would be lucky if he didn't lash out at her for trying to offer the slightest aid.

"Vergil?" She whispered, deciding upon simply calling his name.

Lady hadn't pulled her legs away from him, suddenly realizing his strong hands were steadily gripping her thighs, his thumbs idly stroking their sides. She shuddered at the feeling, her limbs going lax; she wanted to pull him away, to go further through the tower-but at the same time she wanted to stay like this, to make sure he was alright…

"I'm surprised you survived," Vergil's voice suddenly boomed, low and purring before her, "Seeing as you were so fixated on…more carnal thoughts. Disgusting-but I must admit, intriguing for a girl like you."

Lady pursed her lips, her eyes bi-colored slits as she pulled herself forcefully from his back, landing on the solid earth behind her. An amused grin plastered upon the devil's face; a burst of violet light engulfed him and he was himself again-his hair slicked against his always flawless face, eyes blue and brooding, penetrating her in a way that no other object could.

Instinctively, she balled her hands into fists, backed away from him enough that he was a comfortable distance away from her. But what was too close for comfort in the case of Vergil? Lady didn't think she would ever know; even when standing feet away from the white devil, his eyes unnerved her, blue discord in waves of confusion, emotions tangled like icy webs that could engulf her at any moment. The most disturbing aspect of his countenance, she realized, was the uncertainty of those eyes, never knowing his intentions until he destroyed you.

"We have to continue through the tower, Vergil," She replied hastily, turned to progress toward a set of stone steps before her.

Yet as she walked, her combat boots short staccatos against the hollow ground, she felt a chill of ice against her shoulders-a blue blur along the edge of her vision, so quick her legs nearly gave way in the dizzying sensation. Lady gasped at the feeling of Vergil's strong hands upon her, his thumbs burning through her clothing, as they idly caressed her shoulder blades. Even his fingertips were like raging fires as they burnt through her flesh, passed the bone into something deeper, the pumping of her blood, her heartbeat throbbing, pulsing victim trapped within his grip.

"What do you think in that head of yours, girl?"

His breath was embers scorching her throat, searing down her body to burn at her insides. Lady's breath caught in her chest, her trembling legs betraying her as he brought the smooth skin of his cheek against her own-hot against cold, the electric flow enough to spark a tempest with one simple touch.

"I think a lot of things,"

She finally replied after an eternity of standing there in the sultriness of his touch, the torridness of his limbs as they pressed against her, something hungry and aching within her body, an inner demon that blasphemed her logic, twisted her nerves into red hot wanting. What was this feeling he was giving her, this hot spell inside of her, threatening to burst her in half with the sudden longing?

An arch of his hips against her, and she whimpered, her eyes widening, body kindling in response. His smile was a tingling against her neck, a chaste caress that made the room spin, made her body stiffen. Was it possible to move anymore? Was it possible to breathe properly, when she was being held like this, in the thrall of a devil?

"I see the way you look at me, woman. _Lady_, indeed…that fire in your eyes in everything you do-the way you stare at me with such lust. I can practically smell it every time you turn your head-and you'll lie and say you don't feel it, the tension, the _friction_…"

She could feel his heat against her, the wanton bulge between his legs; her entire body was in tremors, sweat prickling against her forehead. If he were a normal human, she would have sent a kick straight to his balls, if he were a normal human; she would have told him off and walked away with her middle finger in the air…

If he weren't so right, she wouldn't have let him touch her at all.

"You flatter yourself," Her breath came out in a husky rasp, a drunken murmur upon her slurring lips.

Betrayal, her Lucifer tongue. The way her voice came so hoarse, so parched for his taste-she was in a drought, every part of her body waiting to be filled by his blue skies. She was a huntress, she could have shoved her Kalina Ann straight into his gut; but it was on the floor, it had fallen, and her resolve was dropping with it, clattering in a hollow mass upon the ground, disarming her…

"Damned Eve," A tender curse, his lips brushing the lobe of her ear, the gentle flick of his cool tongue across her hot skin causing her to jump, "How badly do you want this Devil's fruit?"

His words sank into her skin and she erupted.

_Devil. _

Seduced by a Satan.

Lady's lip trembled, became a vicious sneer upon her face. Whipping around to face him, she successfully lodged his hands, his mouth away from her, her eyes the embodiment of wrath. She would not Sin; not like her Father, nothing like _him_.

"I don't fuck demons," Lady retorted, going to pick her Kalina Ann from its discarded position upon the floor, "I make _love_. But you couldn't understand that, could you? A human emotion as pure as love."

As the snarling huntress brought her leg toward the underside of her cannon, she was cut off by the blur of Vergil's own foot, crashing down with frighteningly quick speed upon the barrel of the weapon to pin it beneath him. Her eyes widening, she pulled herself away from him to catch the sight of his eyes, pulsing with electric rage,

"_Love?_ You foolish woman!" His perfect features formed an ugly sneer as he kicked her weapon across the ground, far from the two of them, causing Lady to glance warily at its fallen position.

"What did I say besides the truth?" She retorted, backing away from Vergil as he advanced towards her, intimidating in his stature against the dim shadows surrounding them, "A demon like you wouldn't comprehend it; you do nothing but mate your own disgusting spawn! We're nothing but sexual toys to you, and you _know_ that-why deny it?!"

In a flicker of pale light, Vergil's hand was in the air-Lady tensed, thought he was going to bring it down to strike her, his face contorted in an unreadable expression. Yet he paused, seemed to regain control of himself-and in one fluid motion brought his hands to his sides and swept across the ground with inhuman speed, straight for her defiant figure.

"Love is a fool to rebellious intrigue,"

As he walked, his heels clacked upon the ground, the tip of his sword hitting its surface,

"We would do well to break away from its temptations. I am not the bitch to my emotions,"

His eyes gleamed with iridescence- the lidded flame of stars so brilliant they fell from grace in sheer beauty. She didn't know why, but her heart murmured a song beneath her breath just then-a parched whisper to break the routine, quenched only by the rage brought on from his spiteful words.

_Why?_

"You would deny all human emotion, _everything_, even if it didn't make you weak? Even if love made you stronger?"

Her voice was flaw manifested, a trembling flute in comparison to his graceful lips, an instrument in itself, the way he could strum his tongue so fluidly, so perfectly,

"What, do you think being the _cunt_ of another is making you _stronger?" _

Hilarity; light staccatos in his tune, "Love shackles you to a person; a parasite, sucking you of your will to live, until you are nothing but a dying sore, a shriveled version of your former self. I could seduce you right now if I wanted to; use your body for pleasure-would that require _emotion_, Lady?"

Lady flushed; she could feel the warmth return, bloom across her cheeks, her blood pulsing beneath the suddenly thin, throbbing skin of her throat, face, body. But she couldn't let him do this to her anymore-

Suddenly, he was too close to her-she could see the pinpricks of white in his eyes, clashing with turquoise like the foaming seas around them-her foaming legs, the bubbling in her throat, and his irises seemed to shift-gray, gleaming crystal, like pinpricks of sweat upon his body, rolling down her own skin, blue flames devouring them whole in the heat, his hands upon his blade, so rough yet gentle, whispering within his warmth, her secret sheath, his immaculate locks falling against her body as he lay on top of her, warm snow, champagne lips, and she would want more, _more_-

Vergil was smiling down at her. Lady was standing there, coat hanging limply about her shoulders, her body trembling, a deer with her snarling leopard's mouth inches from snapping her neck. She had realized what had just happened, but couldn't-_wouldn't­_-acknowledge it. Refused to.

Vergil had nearly seduced her.

_Again._

And he had _known._ She felt sicker than ever before, her multi-prismed orbs narrowed, his cool breath caressing her cheek with more tenderness than the softest touch of any human man. At this thought, she felt her mouth slacken to a frown, and she pushed him away from her, his strong chest moving aside to allow her access to the plethora of stone before them and the cold once again. She knew he could smell her arousal-even she, a simple human, could take in the psychological stench. Shame possessed her at the sound of the Sparda's quiet chuckle behind her. He had just proven to her how carnal her emotions could be.

"So tell me," He murmured, his warmth a throbbing pulse in the dead air, "What emotion was that?"

Lady shuddered. She knew she seemed a whore, then-at least to herself. Eve incarnate. Mary would have never let a man get that close if they weren't a lover, never would have thought such things. But how long had it been since she was that girl? Now she was just a tiny shadow in the light, a flicker of the past, waiting to be unveiled into the present. But for now, everything was Dark. Why not be honest? Why not unnerve him-play games with the Devil, enjoy his torture? It wasn't as if she had anything to hope for-it wasn't as if she still had Salvation, still had any reason to believe that she could be anywhere after death, that the tower wasn't her absolute fate.

It wasn't as if she had any light beyond this darkness.

"Lust." Her voice was a jolt of electricity in the static air.

Lady's lips were on fire. For once, Vergil seemed to hesitate. His blue orbs widened to arctic glaciers, lips upturned in sudden contemplation. The huntress smirked. She had caught him off-guard; the upper hand, broken his careful composure. Even Satan had his human moments.

"I could kill you right now if I wanted to…you're insane if you think otherwise."

He had finally figured it out, then-she was insane. Lady realized, as she leaned too close to him without his consent, her mouth a strange smile upon her face, eyes adrift with fire, just how suicidal she was-how wanton she was, to find a flaw in the valiant dark knight, provoke him into hurting.

"Kill me, then."

Her breath so warm against his. Lady's lips were fire as she kissed him, scorching him with one chaste touch, so quick it fell in embers against his ice; melting his composure, his careful resolve. She pulled away, saw the shock in his face, whiter than it had ever been before; the eyes two voids; unreadable, sunken in his face, a stunned statue. At first, she thought, as his hand twisted to life, that he would grab Yamato and slash at her, chop her in half-but he didn't.

He merely stood there, his gaze of melted ice, sheer shock, absence of passion.

"You're right," Lady muttered, satisfaction red on her smug face, "Human emotions _do_ weaken you. Even lust."

And with that, she turned and progressed towards the stone steps, Kalina Ann cradled in her arms.

It was Stockholm syndrome at its finest.


	7. Bloodlust

**God. Chapter 7 is finally here…to everyone, I am SO sorry it took this amazingly long to get up. It's been lying in my notebook for the longest time, I just haven't had the time to type it up and revise it…this is actually pretty brief, and I leave it off at a pretty cruel cliffhanger. But I SWEAR TO GOD the next Chapter is coming within 2-3 days, and it will be packed with fighting/plot advancement galore. I have to really get things going, characterization aside for actual story advancement. So yes, quality and speed picking up in Chapter 8…guaranteed to come very soon. Thanks for everyone's reviews, especially the constructive criticism! Without them I don't think I would have even been past Chapter 1. **

**Enjoy!  
**

* * *

She couldn't be human.

She _couldn't. _If she was, he would have killed her instantly.

His mouth burned, scarlet weal across his face. IT was a brand of disgust, a contaminated limb that should have been amputated; festering and destructive.

It didn't help that he had enjoyed it.

It didn't help that his insides begged him to pin the girl to a wall and ravage her.

She couldn't be human, because _no_ human would have dared to get so close to him; Vergil, the half-devil, the Son of Sparda, the _monster_. No weak little human would have survived the countless injuries, have risked such self-sacrifice in _kissing_ him-

But she did.

Lady, with her constant, pathetic mask of roughness, stoicism; a kitten struggling to sharpen her claws. She was so frail, so flawed and utterly innocent, even in the wanton way she had approached him, with her sultry eyes, the burning desire; even in seduction, he couldn't help but see her as Mary. Mary, a girl who would name her rocket after her deceased mother. A girl who wanted vengeance simply for justice, for virtue; not for power, satisfaction, the beautiful bloodshed. She was a demon hunter who willingly made a pact with a devil, to open up a demonic world. To her bi-toned eyes, the ends were justifiable for any means…

So what did she wish to accomplish with such a kiss?

She was the most human of all humans; so utterly _mortal_ in her naiveties, her girlish standards and justices, propelled to act by nothing but sheer emotions and fiery resolve to make things _better,_ the kind of person who still believed the world could be fixed someday, that what she was doing had _meaning_, and yet she was prejudiced, hateful, spiting the demonic race as a scapegoat to her father's tyranny. She was still simply a little pup in human terms, defenseless and silly and too ethical for her own good. Didn't she see that the world revolved around bloodshed?

And she was, apparently, brash and suicidal. Vergil had no doubt Lady would gladly die for her goals, she had told him herself she was planning to. But wouldn't he, if it was inevitable?

Strange, how he could share such fire with a girl of such worthless blood. Arkham's blood, the exact counterpart. He wondered if she could really make the bastard bleed. She wouldn't make Vergil. He wouldn't be human, no matter how she tried-

"Whore."

The word left Vergil's lips before he could control it. Lady's head rose slightly; she was descending the stone steps ahead, her mother's namesake cradled with tenderness in her arms.

He wanted her recognition. Vergil would _not _be shunned, especially not by this wench. He stroked the blade of Yamato at his side, remembered his coat hanging dormant on her shoulders. Was that what had possessed her to destroy the modesty he had so scoffed at before?

But Lady didn't reply, further than pausing for a moment, continuing her descent.

"Lust is a human handicap. What did you mean, by trying to infect me? What of our pact-what of your talks of _love_?"

She stiffened then, her voice slow, rippling with aggravation,

"I decided that since I'm going to die in this tower…why not try?"

Blue eyes froze in rigid reluctance; what was this girl saying?

"Do you really plan on dying here? Is that what your ultimate goal is?"

His voice was a forceful sneer; he could feel his body grow hot and uncomfortable at her words. Was it anger he was feeling? She was, after all, simply _human_-had he expected her strength and knowledge to be that of his mother's? Vergil stood a statue of ice, his gaze unnerved as he steeled himself, expectant, for a response. But the ebony-haired girl merely hung her head, her eyes refusing to meet his own, feet shifting upon the stone steps. The Son of Sparda found himself growling.

"Pathetic."

"But I'm only a human, remember?" Her voice trembled as she spoke; a violin whose strings had been pulled viciously from its serenade, frantic to continue, "I can kill my father, but I can't live with myself."

She truly _was_ a child, then-Vergil watched her fingertips tremble as they held Kalina Ann, her eyes struggling to find the fire that had been ablaze moments before. Mary needed fire to keep her burning; retribution. His mind leapt to Mundus.

"You want vengeance," He said, pacing in a circle before her, his eyes never leaving hers, "You want justice. You pay the price of defeating Arkham-couldn't that be enough, girl?"

But Lady could only smile. With one fluid flick of her gloved wrist, her smile became bittersweet as she pulled Arkham's former tome from her side, the ruffled pages emblazoned with the figure of a standing woman with lines across her flesh, the rectangular outline of an altar beneath.

"Does the tower know I've shed enough blood?"

Her voice became a whisper, eyes appearing glazed and strangely stoic, "No wonder you wanted to keep me alive. A 'Human Priestess,' isn't that what you'd call me?"

Vergil's mind went numb. Yamato seemed to his at his side, the image of Jester's laughing face in his mind…

The solution to passing the area beyond. One step closer to unlocking pure power. The blood of a Human Priestess…so much blood, she would have been better off dead.

"So, then," Lady continued speaking, her voice parched and cracking in her throat, her eyes hurt, "My life, in exchange for ending Arkham's? I see, now. This was all a plan, a fucking trap to deceive me! You used me for my _blood_, nothing else!" She was screaming, now, cries of grief, the way her eyes stared up towards the sky, as if begging, praying, her skin whiter than any living human, limbs convulsing-

"Mary," Vergil whispered, wanting to tell her he had no idea what was in Arkham's damned book, he used her simply to use her on his journey-

"Don't fucking call me that!" Kalina Ann was pointed towards him, its sharp blade glinting against the abysmal darkness; but it was shaking, her face pink, eyes glistening-

"I'm going to die here eventually, juts like you wanted, and you have to destroy Arkham, just like our pact says!"

The silver-haired devil could say nothing. What could he say to her frantic state that would fix this predicament, that could possibly sedate her? If she did this sacrifice eventually, he would be able to progress further, attain true power. If she did this, he could destroy Mundus, once and for all.

But death?

Did this girl really want to die?

Why did he _care?_

"Lady."

Vergil didn't know what to say. What could he say? Lady-…_Mary_ hung her head, her weapon shaking so wildly in her grip it became an ebony blur. Slowly, she stepped backwards, a snarl on her pale features, aching to distance herself as far away from the devil as possible.

"Never trust a devil," She whispered in quiet defeat, the sudden dark depths of her eyes causing his body to shudder, "Not even a Son of Sparda."

Her gaze was a void; a realization of her mortality. At that moment, Vergil recognized her fury; it was the fury of a girl realizing her life would have to break, her dreams shattered, her body destroyed. It was the realization that her dreams were simply worthless naiveties, that in the midst of war she must face reality and die like another human sacrifice.

"Mary…"

And as he found himself walking towards her, unsheathing Yamato in a flash of silver, Vergil did not know whether he was about to attack her or embrace her. Lady watched, suddenly; her composure faltering, her breath abated, eyes wide…

"_MOVE!_"

The sound of gunshots filled the room-in an instant his senses exploded into bursts of adrenaline, and he was pushing her behind him in a blur of silver, his arms flung before her trembling frame, barrages of bullets flying towards him-

Yamato surged forward in a wide arc, cutting away at the blasts as easily as paper; they fell in slivers upon the ground, metallic rain that clattered with empty promises of death. Behind him, Lady was gasping for breath; he could smell the sweat upon her flesh, the confusion in her mind, the raucous pumping of the blood beneath.

Yet Vergil was suddenly preoccupied with another smell.

It was a stench; a sickly, disgusting stench that filled his nostrils and caused him to want to vomit. It was the smell of inadequacy; the smell of half-bred mortality…the smell of original sin. It was the smell of his own blood that caused his senses to grow sharp as knives, a growl emanating from deep within the bowels of his throat, his most cannibalistic instincts. It took all of his strength to keep the demon within at bay, to keep his steady composure as the word fell from his lips like a curse,

"Welcome, _brother._"

A shocked cry from Lady's mouth was all it took for Vergil to disappear in a flash of blue light, reappearing only feet away from where he had once stood. What lay impaled within the ground was none other than his father's blade, Rebellion, so deeply it seemed to cut the marble clean in half, rubble lying victimized around its long body. He turned in an instant to see Lady slumped against the wall, her eyes wide in shock at the proximity of the blade situated almost neatly between her outstretched legs; with a soft shudder, she pulled herself to her feet and gasped again.

Vergil knew almost instantly what he would find when he turned.

"Well, looks like I found the party!"

A cheerful voice shouted the words so loudly it echoed across the hollow halls, the resonant screams of two pistols following shortly in its wake. Shirking away from the rain of bullets, Vergil quickly pulled Yamato to his side and simply deflected them in another wide arc of his blade; swinging his sword forward in the direction they had come to volley them back in the attacker's direction. Hysterical laughter rippled through the air as a scarlet blur emerged from the darkness, and before the blink of a human eye the exact replica of Vergil stood, grinning with amiable hatred before him, grabbing hold of Rebellion with a flourish as he twirled it with one hand around his body, pointing its tip straight at the blue demon's face.

"I didn't expect you to resort to kidnapping all the babes, but I guess you've been pretty desperate lately, am I right, brother? I mean…all of your guests weren't exactly the warmest welcome, but I made sure to entertain them!"

As if to accentuate his words, he twirled the blade between his fingertips, flashing a cocky grin upon his alabaster features. Dante stole a curious look towards Lady, who stood dormant in a corner of the room, her face expressionless save for her pursed lips. With a quick wink in her direction, he turned towards Vergil again, who stood as stone still as if his brother's sudden appearance had not fazed him whatsoever.

"My sincerest apologies, brother. I was so eager for your arrival, I couldn't afford a more exciting bash," The older devil hissed towards his brother, his fists clenched so hard against the hilt of his sword he could feel the cool blood trickling from his palms.

Dante never faltered in Rebellion's aim; it pointed resolutely at Vergil's face, and within an instant, Yamato mirrored his actions without hesitation. They circled each other in the confines of the hall, blurs of blue and red in their speed; Vergil could not see Lady nearby, yet he could smell her trepidation; her confusion. He wondered if she knew Dante, if she knew their encounter was inevitable.

Yet there were more important things to attend to.

"I guess we've been overdue for a family reunion, huh?" Dante retorted smoothly, his sapphire eyes glinting with wicked mirth, "How would you like a kiss from your little brother? It's been so _long_…"

"Lady, I order you to leave," Vergil found himself suddenly shouting towards the girl he knew still lingered in the room-and both she and Dante froze in surprise.

"So this babe here is your little fuck buddy, is that it?" With a fluidity quick enough to rival that of his brother's, Dante turned again towards Lady, interest renewed in his gaze, "And I've always wondered why so many men have found fucking to be so powerful. Well, now I know! Is this how you go about destroying the world, brother?"

His amused tone caused a burst of fire to erupt in Vergil's veins. In an instant, he was walking towards him, eyes narrowed, determined to discard his brother's carcass, retrieve his mother's amulet, and be finished with him-

_Power, no matter the costs._

"Let me show you what true power means, _brother_."

"That's more like it!"

With a burst of laughter, Dante rushed from Lady's side and, hurling himself towards his brother, dove his blade straight downwards to strike at his face. Immediately Vergil's sword clashed with his own, and they began their struggle, neither willing to stop until the other dropped infinitely and irrevocably dead.

It was bloodlust at its finest.


	8. The Cost of Power

**Yes, Chapter 8 is here. I'm sorry for the wait, and I really, really appreciate your patience :) Summer is here for me (finally) so I'll be able to write more and maybe even wrap this up, along with Black Candles! I'm trying to get back into writing, so forgive my shakiness…and please, like always, review and ENJOY!**

* * *

The two Satans fought for what seemed like an endless void of Time, their figures cutting across the twilight like multi-colored flames. The clashing of their blades rang in hollow rhythm to their heaving breaths, the tinctures of iridescent sweat falling from their suspended frames like the rain that pounded the ground between the rocky cracks of the ceiling above—instantly, they were marionettes in the air, their feet kicking up against the stone walls in wild blurs.

Neither faltered, neither failed to mirror the other as they raised their blades with their shining, cold eyes to impale themselves; only to clash in a shower of sparks and frustrated cries from their jarring blades. Dante was the wilder, the more passionate; his strikes were short, fervent staccatos in mid-air, punctuated by a sudden hail of wailing black bullets into the sky. And then, Vergil, with a lithe, unearthly grace, would yawn his Yamato in simple, calculated arcs to destroy them, as if they had never existed; a mere mirage of a warrior's desires.

She knew it would end, soon. They could not dance for so long, their legs spirals of fluid wind in the air, their figures pirouetting and dipping savagely to cut into the other, tear and sever the ghastly white flesh beneath the fabric, their movements a premonition of what was to come—

One would die here.

And yet, what if both would perish? What if Vergil would die, here, and his brother as well? Then she would be ultimately, completely free, with no need for sacrifice…then she would have none in her way of death, of avenging her mother, and she could do so with peace, without the pact, the tainted devil's presence constantly about her…

But to go further through the Tower, she needed to bleed.

_Lady, I order you to leave!_

Her hands fell upon the blue fabric; heavy and leaden upon her shoulders, and she knew. She knew the Pact was too deep, now; a surging scar beneath her pumping veins, deeper than her body, deep within her soul. She knew of the guilt that would plague her pathetically human heart, and in that way she was truly a childish little _fool_-just as she had always been.

Even when she had promised she would never just be little Mary Arkham again.

"Why won't you just _die?!_"

A gasp. Multi-colored eyes caught a flash of scarlet in the air; Dante's snarling face, voice dripping in sudden tumults of frustration. His twin pistols dropped and clattered to the floor at his feet, the bullets of which his brother had so easily deflected. Vergil stood like a stone upon the marble ground, feet away from her stagnant frame, his eyes gleaming and unwavering. Yamato hissed in carnal pleasure at his hip, its tip pointing straight across the room towards Dante's heart.

"Once you have realized true power, brother, death is but a mere afterthought. I will not die until I have that power."

The realization that Dante could not physically hurt his more agile counterpart struck an unknown chord within Lady's chest. She did not know how to react to this sudden realization, that he would still _live_, still sacrifice her in the end—

Yet as a pair of smooth, sanguine orbs fell upon her with malice, she felt nothing but fear.

"Vergil!"

It was all she could cry before a scarlet blur shot towards her, Rebellion screaming through the splitting sky, arching its long silver back, straying inches from her pale head—

To embed itself within the palm of a broad, white hand, thick blood gushing and spurting in the air as Dante forcefully sank the blade in deep through Vergil's skin.

He had saved her.

Lady's eyes widened in shock at the sight; before she could will herself to breathe, Kalina Ann shot up into her arms, aiming at Dante. The red-cloaked devil had been leering at Vergil's opened wound, turning only at the sound of Lady pulling the trigger.

Instantly, both brothers leapt from her view as a thick curtain of pungent smoke enveloped the room, complete silence filling the Earth save for her heavy breath. Lady's missile plunged through the thick gray, straight toward Dante's faint figure in the distance. Yet only seconds later, Dante's face was became visible, a triumphant smirk on his lips as, screaming in triumph, he jumped upon its cylinder-shaped back, unmarred and untouched, riding its length as it shot through the air in spiraling circles before pushing its full momentum into a nearby wall and jumping backwards as it exploded in a mess of debris and caving stone.

"So, the fuck toy knows its master well!"

Instantly, she began to launch grenades from the belt looped about her waist, aiming straight for Dante's head as he progressed towards her in a slow swagger, and just as instantly did he bat them away with the flat side of Rebellion, lobbing them in all directions to explode in showers of debris. She continued to walk as far away from him as she could, Kalina Ann pointed between his eyes, her own darting wildly for any sight of Vergil in the distance.

"He's not my _master_," She spat in response, her fingers trembling upon the trigger of her useless weapon, "We have a Pact, and I seek to fulfill my end of it. You're in the way!"

As she pulled the trigger, Dante became a mere blur before her vision-a jarring spasm shot through her body as Rebellion stuck its silver length through Kalina Ann's entrance; her eyes widening, she threw herself to the side of the room, as far as she could, as the implosion of her missile caused the weapon to rocket backwards through the air, shooting Rebellion from its smoking maw and falling in a crumpled, metal heap upon the ground. Lady was dangling like a spider from the wall, her fingers clinging to the wire of her grappling hook, her heart beating rapidly in her chest. Had she been standing any second longer behind Kalina Ann, she would have been emulsified, incinerated completely…

He scanned the ruptured metallic body of her weapon, then, with rapid impatience, the slope of the ground before him for any sign of her body. Lady wondered if he really thought he had hurt her by clogging her weapon; a sudden sharp sting in her thigh confirmed her own suspicions, as, looking down silently, she saw a slow trickling of wet blood on her skin.

"A Pact, you say?" Dante shouted from the ground, pacing the room, his cerulean gaze continuing to rapidly comb their surroundings for any sign of the raven-haired huntress, "So you think you're siding with the good guys, is that it? You know he's the bastard that brought this tower up in the first place? I'm trying to _kill_ him so he won't kill us all by unleashing Hell on Earth, and _you're_ trying to stop _me_?!"

Lady's eyes widened, her grip faltering on the handle of her grappling hook, a momentary gasp escaping from her lips; then, the burning eyes were on her own, and as he thrust the charred tip of Rebellion towards her stunned figure, she lobbed a grenade straight into his face.

The force of the explosion sent Lady tumbling from the wire of the grappling hook, the hot air blowing all around her as she frantically grabbed hold of the head of the closest statue feet above the ground, her legs wrapping around its thick neck for support, the smoldering smoke filling her vision-and then she saw his inert frame, standing still and slow amidst the miniature flames that lined the ground, clinging to the body of his scarlet coat yet never seeming to scald his skin.

"You're really starting to piss me off!"

He lunged towards her; Lady pulled the length of her body atop the relatively small head of the statue below her, her weight suddenly heavy upon her injured collar. Without any hesitation she leapt upwards as Dante reached to grab her ankle, his frantic rain of bullets towards her suspended body slicing the air past her head as she closed her eyes and somersaulted to land on the ground behind him.

"You're the one attacking _me_, demon!"

Dante turned his body towards her, his blade cutting across the air in a wide arc to connect with her throat; with breakneck speed, Lady ducked beneath the blow and brought a roundhouse kick straight into his gut. His eyes widening in shock, the devil seemed fazed for a moment before grabbing onto her ankle and throwing her bodily to the side of the room. Lady's back connected with the rough ground below her, her skull jarring against the rough, rocky debris below her fallen figure.

"And I'm the demon, when you're on my brother's side?"

Dante chuckled, his immaculate features twisted into a smug grin above her; he shoved the bottom of his boot against the bloodied wound in her stomach, Lady's body writhing in pain in response. She found herself twitching beneath him as she groaned quietly, her wide eyes staring stubbornly into his own.

"It's a shame, you know, a pretty little thing like you about to become nothing but a corpse. You were in my way, babe."

He held a pistol down between her eyes, cocking it with a flourish of his gloved fingers,

"But if you want…I can show you some mercy. Just end this little Pact with Vergil, and join me instead. What do you say?"

In her narrow line of vision, Lady could not see any sign of Vergil.

Had he abandoned her, then…?

Was he going to take her bloodied remains, sweep her carcass from the ground, use it to progress within the Tower instead of keeping her _alive_? The gruesome reality seeped into her mind, stung her with its cruelty…she needed to _live_, to destroy Arkham, and here she had to make her choice, or suffer a bullet to the brain. After all she had been through, Lady knew that was something a mere human could _not_ survive.

Dante's indigo orbs grew frosted with impatience; his eyes viewed her with an all-too human hunger, the eyes of a child ogling a pretty passerby, wondering what lay beneath the secret folds of her clothing, the crevices hidden beneath the surface…his eyes were naïve and childish, in contrast to the wise temperament that had been Vergil's…_and what will he do with me, if I comply with him? To be used again…to be controlled again…_

And with her last thoughts seeping through her mind, Lady clenched her fists, grit her teeth against the pain of Dante's foot, and hissed,

"_No._"

With somber eyes, Dante pulled the trigger in the opposite direction of Lady's body, his bullet flying into the air to hit a sudden violet burst of energy rushing towards them. The bullet was incinerated into black powder. The half-breed was suddenly gripping his twin pistols in his hands, shooting like a madman, Lady's mind reeling in the sudden scene before her, the shock of nearly being killed to now staring at a purple haze of sheer energy emanating from the solid figure at the end—

"Vergil!" She cried, and the Son of Sparda's body came into view, the violet energy becoming a faint aura coalescing about his skin.

"Took you long enough to come out!" Dante sneered, his gaze ferocious, "I was going to kill this babe just for you, dear _brother_."

Vergil's eyes flickered towards Lady's for an instant, then focused upon Dante, cold and stoic.

"I care nothing for the fate of the girl," He hissed, his words slicing through Lady's mind like a sudden burst of wind, "All I need is the power Sparda has sealed away."

Dante smirked, then, gripping Lady's wrist before she had the chance to move.

"You don't care for this girl?" He repeated, then nodded slightly, as if in consideration, "Ahh…that would be too _human_ for you, wouldn't it, Vergil? You would break your Pact—whatever the hell it is—and kill her, like some other filthy demon, wouldn't you?"

As he said this, Lady shuddered in his iron grip. Dante's skin held a warmth to it, beyond the frigid cold; something more tangible than Vergil's pure frost. He was more…human, more flawed, more real, and she found it frightening. She found it frightening that she could die, now, in Dante's arms, and Vergil would not lift a hand or utter a word of difference—and just now, she had nearly _died_ to keep her Pact, had nearly died for _him_.

"Let us get over this banter and concentrate on what we came for,"

Vergil interrupted smoothly; yet, staring at his frame, Lady noticed his fingers twitching upon the blade at his side as he watched the movements of Dante's warm digits upon her arm, the way he suddenly grabbed her and pulled her close to his body, his lilting azure gaze scalding hot as he came closer, closer than what was comfortable. She wished Kalina Ann were nearby, she wished she could put a bullet into his brain; and the thoughts froze within her as Dante grabbed roughly upon her chin, pulled her to his side, and forcefully crushed his mouth upon her own.

Lady whimpered against his strong hold, punching at his shoulders with her hands, yet he would not budge; instead, he grabbed her sides so hard she cried out, her mouth opening slightly, and he took the chance to slide his tongue down her throat, adamant despite her desperate bites and scratches as he invaded her mouth—

And then he was gone. Lady clutched onto her throat, gasping for air, as Yamato impaled itself upon the ground where Dante had been standing moments before, his laughter filling the enclosed space with amusement,

"All that power, and you're still getting impatient, brother?! I'm shocked."

Vergil passed her in a rush of wind; she turned her head and met his piercing gaze, his lips twisted into a maddened snarl.

"You would do well to have used this power for your own."

Yamato faced Rebellion, their owners encircling one another, eyes flashing in the dim light like restrained flames.

"I would have rather kept it locked away!"

Dante's words rang through the clashing of his blade against Vergil's, their bodies pumping against the other in their struggle; and then, faster than Lady could fathom with her human eyes, Vergil raised a hand and shot a burst of violet light into Dante's stunned face. For a moment, he faltered, brought his hands to his eyes, Rebellion clattering to the ground—and in doing so sealed his fate.

"And so you shall help unleash it."

_No._

A sickening _squelch_; the jerking of metal through paper-thin flesh, slicing straight through sinew and tendon to emerge, triumphant, through his staggering back. Rebellion lay in the gut of its master, scarlet blood trickling from his opened wound like thick tears, his blue eyes rolling to the back of his head, a strangled, gasping cry emitting from his opened mouth. Vergil walked slowly towards his struggling brother, and with one final stroke of Rebellion so far through Dante's gut the sheath entrenched itself within his bloody stomach, pulled a hanging, ruby amulet from his throat and watched him fall to the ground below.

The rain falling through the cracks seemed to deepen, then, as if it were opened by the blade's strokes. Lady's horrified face was matted in her wet, raven locks as she watched the thick blood roll in puddles from Dante's opened wound, trickling from his sagging mouth, his still-opened eyes. Her feet guided her towards the two brothers, even as Vergil sneered down at his counterpart, pulled his rain-soaked fingers through his ivory hair, turned to walk off in triumph. She sloped down to the wet stone of the ground, her boots soaked in the swirling blood that bloomed like flowers from his broken skin.

And rage possessed her, as she leaned forward and brushed his lids closed over his eyes. Pure, undiluted rage for the murderer as he walked away, his gaze never sweeping to the disaster behind him, yet always resolutely forward, towards the awaiting door. Murderous bastard…and for _what?_

"What are you after?" She whispered, so softly she could barely hear; yet was certain he had heard, from the whispering of the wind, the prick of his Devil's ear,

"Answer me, Vergil!" Lady suddenly screamed, the rain growing so thick it rose to her knees in endless puddles, bursts of thunder like the sound of clashing metal in ghostly echoes across the room, "What do you want?!"

She fell upon her knees, cradling Dante's limp, hanging neck in her lap. He was no more than a discarded doll, the blood seeping into the fabric of her clothing like a scarlet epitaph. Tears pricked at her eyes; a mourner's tears, not for the ragged, inert body in her arms, but the man who had done such a deed—to his own _blood_, their ties severed in a pool along the floor, along the walls, in the hollow of her lap.

And he continued to walk across the long hall to what lay beyond, a monster of his own Tower; Satan retreating into the depths of his Hell.

"You stabbed your own fucking _brother_! And for what?! For _what?!_" Her screams pierced her own ears with pain, yet she no longer cared.

The devil's broad back stiffened, his figure spinning around to face her own, his eyes the cold stare of opened graves.

"And aren't you planning patricide?" He spat, Yamato at his side, unsheathed and trickling with blood, "This is a war which I intend to win, Mary."

"A…_war_?" She repeated beneath her breath, brows knitting in confusion.

Dante's body was growing heavy in her arms, his lead frame casing beads of sweat to trickle from her brow, coalesce with the rain,

"You plan to fight against your family for power? Is that it?"

Life stirred within Vergil's eyes, then; his lips pursed slightly together, as if to tell her something, strung deep from the chords of his insides…

And Lady saw the reflection of the red mass at her feet begin to twitch wildly in those eyes before feeling him spasm in her arms. A faint gasp flew from her lips as she pushed herself away; the blood-covered face was pulling itself upwards as if by a marionette's strings, the arms flailing wildly as if lacking joints, the neck snapping sharply in its collar, the body itself rising up, up through the blade that impaled him through his abdomen, his bloodshot eyes popping opened, body kneeling of as he grabbed Rebellion's handle through his bloody stomach and _pulled—_

"So you, too, have awakened the Devil within," Vergil hissed, his eyes burning as he readied Yamato and began to lunge for his brother's blood-stained form.

"Vergil! No!"

A flash of black, Vergil's aggravated cry, the clattering of Yamato as Lady found herself standing defiantly before the bloody, kneeling mass that was Dante, her arms outstretched like some Vengeful Christ, lip pulled into a resolute snarl, knowing he could easily chop her in half to get to Dante—wondering if he would.

_Monsters kill their kin…why not a human?_

And he would kill her, eventually, wouldn't he? Her body hardened like a hollowed shell at the mere thought, and yet, maybe even now, she could save _someone, something._

"You _fool_, Mary! So you'll defend him too, like you've defended Arkham?!"

The blue Satan screamed, standing before her with pure anger upon his chiseled face.

"No, we don't have much time!" Mary retorted adamantly, "We may lose track of my—_Arkham_ entirely, and you have what you wanted, don't you?!"

Her multi-pigmented gaze strayed to the gleaming amulet hanging from Vergil's frosted fingertips. At first, the pale-faced devil merely snarled; then, as his eyes caught sight of the shimmering gem, he turned abruptly and sheathed Yamato with a resounding clang.

"The quicker to obtain power," He murmured smoothly, and as Lady willed herself to follow she turned to look at Dante once more, her fingers clasped about Kalina Ann's body.

A dull, red light emanated from the surface of his bloody skin; he was snarling, beastly in his rage, his fists clenched, eyes burning. Rain seeped like angered tears from the cracks of the ceiling, tangled his ivory locks to his wraith-like face.

_Ghost,_ she thought, _Ghost of your old family, come to avenge your own blood…what happened to twist your brother? _

And as her silent questions floated throughout the air, Lady turned to Satan and followed his descent.


	9. Desperate Measures

**Author's Notes:** Ahh don't kill me, please...this has taken a ridiculously long time. I ran into writer's block for awhile and was much busier this whole year than anticipated, and I've spent a good few weeks struggling to think of a good way to continue this 'fic...sooo yeah... My Vergil was also acting slightly OOC last chapter...but that will be amended after this chapter, don't you worry (and some of you may hate me even more for it. ;) ) This Vergil is consistently different from the Vergil in Black Candles, though, which is probably pretty obvious. I consider this interpretation to be MUCH LIGHTER than the Black Candles version, and also, probably a lot less canon—but it does make things interesting, writing him in two different ways.

Thank you all SO SO MUCH for your patience and your reviews which honestly have prodded me forward into continuing this fanfic. It's no question that reviews keep me going, and keep me trying to think of more and more ways to progress the story without just abandoning it.

Special thanks to ALL of my reviewers who have stuck with this story:

**Chrome ****Pangpond ****Cerulean Crystal**

**Dynamic 095****IVIaedhros ****Pocky**** Munching God**

**ResiAddict ****Shyanon ****Arianni**

**DmcFan ****Lucidtear ****Scarlette**** Raven**

**It's Just Magic bladeprincess9 Starbucks Ninja**

**Mistress of Destruction ****Nowshin**** BlueSun91**

**Mistah****Kenneday ****The**** Tyrant Hamster Frozen Perfection**

**The Hot Mage ****Aeris**** Hermisia ****Ice ****Camaro**

**Gone Away 2345 ****auralite ****Sam Valentine**

**Lilithn**** Laylah**** Devillover666**

**Destructo888**

…As well as those who have added it to favorites/alerts and have not reviewed. I love you ALL:) And without your support I would have abandoned this a long time ago. However it's not nearly finished…still going on strong, and I promise you I will do my best to complete it.

...ACTUALLY, in the spirit of Devil May Cry 4 coming out, I'm going to try and update all three of my 'fics at least once a week!

With love,

XxNadsxX

* * *

Even at the very bottom of the Tower, he could hear his brother's anguished cries. 

They ricocheted against the stone walls, silencing the roar of the undulating waterfalls into calm ripples. In essence, he and Dante were the same; they could view rare traces of strong emotion, shared the same blood, the same proud demeanor—

But Dante had always been a coward. He had always been the human half of the Sparda brothers; too weak to ever kill a human, always the virtuous of the two.

_Yet demons destroy by nature…and humans indulge in such a choice. The human murderer is __more wicked__ than the __vilest__ of demons. _

Dante had always known such fact, had refused to confront it—

_And so he takes his choice, becomes all the more which he so wantonly defends. __And I…_

In his thoughts, he froze; unaware he had been traversing the low, sloping tunnels leading toward the center of the Tower edifice. He stood, statuesque against the dim slivers of light from the rocky outcropping of earth above, the sudden cold chill of the underground barely fraying his carefully composed nerves.

Dante's screams had stopped.

Vergil's mind strained against the edges of his skull, concentrating intently on his image; the once convulsing body soaked in blood, the rolling eyes struggling for consciousness even as he fell, the horrific waves of incredible anguish rippling from his every pore…

And then there was nothing.

Vergil failed to sense his presence, any faintest trace of a heartbeat within Temen-ni-guru. Perhaps he had been overwhelmed by the power and had died… but even Vergil's foolish little brother was stronger than that. The son of Sparda grew more perplexed with every passing moment, his still frame frozen ice before the underground chambers as he strained to seek out Dante's presence. The necklace grew hot as fire on his bare chest, the possibility seeping through him with every spasming pulse of the amulet's power.

If he was dead, he could gain power, unhindered. If he was dead, he could become a full demon; attain the strength to destroy his nemesis once and for all.

If he was dead…

The amulet's other half lay dormant against his body like an empty corpse, a red stain against the white.

_Sacrifices; that is all it has been, all it must continue to be. He is gone of his own accord. And the girl, too…_

How long did it take to break a human?

All this time, Lady had been nothing but an impediment to him, an injured limb left to rot that he must always drag along with the strength of his body, slowing down his progress and hindering his powers. Vergil could have so easily ripped his brother to shreds moments before—he could have _killed_ him then, rid himself of the half-breed nuisance, been free to quench his thirst for power and annihilate all those who opposed him with the aid of the amulet dangling loosely about his throat, a bloody tear against his marble chest. He could have faced that wretched Jester freely, could have used him for information, could have progressed _alone_ throughout the Tower, cutting away the obstacles like flimsy flesh, as if taking an easy stroll through Temin-ni-guru and emerging all the more powerful in the end.

But _no._

He had needed her _blood._ Her sickeningly tainted human blood; the poison that ran within her veins, that made her so much more weak and vulnerable than himself.

Yet she had tried to fight his brother, hadn't she _tried,_with her little exploding toys and the missile-launching contraption, advanced technology made for those without the power to wield a blade efficiently. She had come all this way to kill off her own weakling father, still surviving halfway throughout the Tower itself—though he began to wonder whether or not she would have stood an hour against the demonic entities of Temi-ni-guru alone. But she was stubborn. Stubborn and ambitious and foolish; she dove headfirst into this Hell with no other intention than carrying out her grudge against Arkham, blasted away all other minor demons targeting her as sustenance, become idiotic The stupid girl had pacted with him, ultimately driven him away from finally murdering his brother by sacrificing herself in the process.

_Murder._

Strange, how he still thought of it as such. His fist tightened against Yamato's sharp surface, the impending rage of his own mind melting into the blood that spewed from his skin. To destroy the last remainder of Sparda's lineage...his own _brother_. It was not a wicked deed when considering his motives, his attaining of power. Dante was a fool, a stupid boy who constantly interfered in his own objectives like a boisterous little fly, begging to be swatted in all his inane idiocy. It was not Vergil's fault, nor would it be his burden, if he had rid himself of his brother for eternity—

_All the more to gain power. All the more to destroy Mundus. _

Dante would be another one to avenge, that was all. It would have been a death spurned from sacrifices, sacrifices made to gain the power needed to enable him to destroy. There was no shame in such a goal; no shame in slaughtering those who would mar his path.

Then why was he mulling such an action so heavily?

Vergil progressed in a slow walk, turning his blade in his hand, quite aware of the sigh of relief just emitted from behind him. Yamato held her multi-colored gaze upon its shining surface as if she were on a silver platter. She was watching him, quite resolutely, it seemed; obviously his attempt at fratricide had unnerved her, as it should to any average, simple human. It was a change from the suicidal rashness of before, her actions infuriating him to no end in its strangeness—yet the Son of Sparda had humored her enough.

_Why,_ as his eyes traced once more to the reflection upon his blade, was he questioning why he still allowed the human girl to live? His spilled blood dribbled down the metallic surface, soaking her distorted face with red; and he knew she could not hold out for much longer, that she would either die on the slab or die fighting her fool father; or perhaps, as she had claimed before, die at her own hands, buried beneath the stone debris of the Tower.

And he forced himself to feel nothing; for a sacrifice was just that, and nothing more to hinder his adamant mind, nothing to mar his pride. The kiss had been a suicidal attempt of the human's, some twisted form of emotion turned to something utterly sadistic; it was her own acceptance of her mortality, nothing he could ever allow to disorient him, ever allow himself to question. The coat that flapped securely about her small, trembling shoulders was a way to keep her functioning until her duties were performed, much as one would bring a calf into shelter from harsh winds, only to axe her later for the flesh. And when he leapt to strike Dante when he had touched her, had tried to violate her—

The Devil's mind clouded in a thick mist of dread. A low snarl ripped from his lips at the mere thought that perplexed him, the mere thought which held no coherent answer.

Immediately he struggled to close his mind to the horrific possibilities he had envisioned with the treachery of human emotions; that he had enjoyed her touch, had felt a surge of rage at Dante's advances—

Because he was no _human,_ and even this girl who was so _inhuman_ could not weaken him.

"Where…where are we going?"

The feeble voice jerked him from his troubled thoughts and forced him to face the upturned head of Mary, raised in sudden defiance at his hard stare. Something in her wide eyes seemed to burn with unspoken animosity; an emotion even braver than her display of lust mere hours ago, nearly identical to the fervent gleam while she had declared the desire to annihilate her father. Vergil's body tensed at her expression; did she view him as a threat, then, an enemy just as Arkham was?

Yet perhaps she merely realized that he was planning to use her exactly as the tome directed—perhaps, to her, he _was _Arkham, yet in an entirely different form.

"We're halfway through the Tower, now,"

The blue demon said with a careful apathy to his voice, unwilling to respond to the challenge in Lady's flaming eyes, to even turn and acknowledge her,

"It won't be much longer until we fulfill our sides of the deal."

"The _deal,_" She said sharply, her gaze never faltering, "As if I had any choice in the matter."

Vergil froze again, her words enticing him to turn his head cocking it level to hers,

"You humans are indulgent in the ability of choice. You may be the only human in this tower, yet this Pact was _your_ doing, no one else's."

Her eyes finally lowered, a sharp blade relinquished in momentary defeat,

"Don't remind me. But as long as I can spill Arkham's blood…I'll gladly spill my own. It's not like I'll be here when you destroy everything."

A sudden flash of intuition rekindled her raised gaze; Vergil snarled in response, his eyes tracing the tome still clasped at Lady's side. She had known of the effect of unleashing Sparda's seal, had flipped rapidly while he lay like a fool in his weakling thoughts.

"That's it, isn't it?" The huntress pressed vehemently, her voice loud with the anticipation of her discovery, "You'll really unleash Hell on Earth to fill your own selfish little desires! You'd kill your brother—"

"_You _are my accomplice, just as selfish as I, Mary! You're going to allow it to happen, you're going to allow me to destroy this place, and you'll willingly kill yourself in the end like a true human coward!"

Vergil's words spewed poison as he spoke, the anger nearly overwhelming—she was still so naïve, so adamant on her "right path," and he would have rather had her dead than believe herself immaculate. Lady's lips twisted into something hideously unreadable. She opened her mouth to respond, her voice a hiss,

"Don't _ever_ call me a coward—!"

Yet as she lunged towards him, the words died on her lips. The huntress stumbled in the air, fell to the ground at Vergil's feet, a loud, blood-curdling scream of painful bewilderment piercing his eardrums as he registered the sudden scene before him. Lady had fallen, had been stricken—the long, blue appendage like a human-sized arrow stuck through her already injured leg, nearly impaling it through, shot so quickly only traces of thin blood pooled against her thigh.

_From the sky…_

He barely had time to react when more arrow-like projectiles burst through the air above like glowing rain—he threw Lady's still-slumped form in his arms, running at break-neck speed towards the nearest derelict column, barely dodging the stray volley of attacks as they impaled the ground inches from his frame. Vergil fell behind the wide body of the crumbling column, his limbs bursting with sudden adrenaline at the unanticipated attack, Lady's unwilling groan of pain in ghastly echoes down the cavern's length. The huntress was propped against the stone like a rag doll, her eyes in a wince, lips curled, hissing profanities as she struggled against the pain of the long shaft embedded through her leg.

Vergil's eyes narrowed at the thick surface that stuck through her skin; it had been lodged deeply by her staggering.

"Stay here, while I destroy those demons," Yamato was in his hands, and even as Vergil spoke he was on his feet, eyeing the attackers; three one-eyed Enigmas, their limbs spinning like tops ready to unwind and destroy.

"N-no!"

Lady's cry of protest failed to faze him as he walked forward, Yamato arched and poised to strike, "You can't just expect me to…"

"Stay, damnit!" Vergil's nerves were ablaze at the girl's protests; he glared fiercely at her still, white face, rushed towards the three and charged in a straight line, eyes narrowed in cold anticipation.

At once, all three demons unleashed their volley of attacks towards his blur of a body—he swung himself sharply from left to right, Yamato striking a falling appendage directly at its tip, sending it clattering to the floor behind his pumping legs, his poised body. The first was beneath his blade in a matter of seconds; with a flourish, Yamato spun in a clockwise arc in the air and sank its tip straight through the demon's hard skull; it shrieked a high-pitched wail, its sharp limbs shooting off in all directions to imbed itself into his flesh, yet his sword connected with brain, the monster falling to the ground in a heap of bones and blood. Immediately he lifted the Enigma's carcass, still impaled upon Yamato, into the air; and just as instantly a violent hail of arrow-like limbs impaled themselves through its skeleton with the sheer force of contact. Yamato flung its sleek body to the side, the corpse sliding through the air to connect and send another Enigma just as it would have leapt towards Vergil against the ground in a shriek of flailing arms. With a cry of bloodlust, the half-breed threw Yamato like a javelin in the direction of the third, gripping its two flying projectiles just as they were to make contact with his skin, black blood spewing across the slick ground as Vergil raised the very same shafts that had attacked him as he plunged them deeply into the Enigma's temples, their bloodied points emerging from each side.

Yamato entrenched itself from the demon's crumpled body, and just as Vergil wiped the slick blood and cranial matter from its metallic surface, failing to hear the whistle of the shaft headed for his head—

The sounds of gunshots echoed across the chasm; a demon screamed in bestial pain and Vergil turned as the needle clattered to the ground, inches from his body. Lady's face was whiter than ever; slick with sweat, her eyes wide and nearly expressionless, the needle through her thigh causing the flesh surrounding it to take on a sickly shade of bruised black and scarlet against her fair skin. It seemed to be taking all her strength to stand, and as she staggered, he grabbed the girl roughly by her waist, taking her full weight into his arms as he scanned the area for any more sign of life.

It was suddenly silent, save for the falling water and Mary's harsh breaths—they would have to take their chance and move quickly. Vergil tensed slightly as he gazed at Lady's still frame; her face was blank, no longer contorted in pain, as if her consciousness were giving away in the aftershock. Every second wasted was a second on the weakling's life—he still needed her alive and coherent, and so he did not regret what he was about to do.

The Son of Sparda laid her still body down near the branch of a waterfall, hovered over her unresponsive face—and began to slowly lift the bottom of her skirt.

It was then that she responded.

"Wh-What the hell are you doing?!"

The words seemed difficult for her to form; Vergil's fingers continued to run across the thick cloth of her kilt,

"I'm going to remove that needle from your body or else you'll die."

Lady garnered enough strength to shudder; it was clear the pain brought about an unspoken death wish in her wide eyes—and he did not need his key to his goal to die away just yet. He worked more rapidly, then; he pulled her kilt as far up her thigh as he could manage, failing to ignore how remarkably warm her skin was in the cold of the chasm as he busily studied the severity of her wound. Lady's breathing was erratic; she watched him intently, frantically, her gaze burning him with the silent pain, the pain she so desperately kept beneath her lips because screaming would only attract more of them, end their lives in moments.

Yet if he were to wrench the shaft from her body, whether quickly or slowly...she would scream. She would scream and they would die, so close to having gained the power he so strived for…

I'm going to pull this from your leg," Vergil spoke slowly, his hand clasping her warm skin like a vice, "And you can't scream, _d_o_ you hear me_"

Her stare became desperate, incredulous; Vergil knew this plea was utterly impossible, knew that even Sparda himself would cry out when stricken—

Yet it was the only way.

Steeling himself from agitation, Vergil leaned carefully toward Lady's leg, the shaft which so crudely protruded from her bare skin. He watched her inhale forcefully through her nostrils, stare straight into his cold eyes—and then he pulled the shaft with all his strength from Lady's thigh, her eyes widening in intense pain as it jostled against her bones and tore through the muscle—

It was longer than he had thought, lodged in more deeply, Mary's lips twisting involuntarily, her whimpers becoming louder, intensifying into abrupt cries—

becoming silenced immediately by Vergil's mouth pressed roughly over hers, almost painful in its forcefulness. The needle jerked halfway through, protruding in bloody inches through the air, Lady's shrill screams of pain a frantic hum in his hard mouth—and then, sudden silence, her breath slowing to a calm against his, her nerves distracted as he wrenched the final inch of bone from her body. He pulled away from her opened mouth, throwing the shaft to the waters nearby. Lady gasped for air as the devil pulled his coat aside and began to tear at the blue fabric with relative carelessness.

"What…"

She formed the question for the second time as he tore the strip of cloth with his nimble fingers,

"I am making a tourniquet, so you don't soak us both with your stink blood."

His voice lacked the intended viciousness. Lady pulled herself to a sitting position, wincing, as Vergil gripped her thigh again—she flinched at his cold hands, yet was obediently still while he fastened it about her leg, her body like fire against his icy skin.

"Vergil…"

Lady began, yet he shook his head quickly, cutting off any sort of gratitude on her part,

" I am only doing this to keep you alive. Keep in mind that when our Pact is broken, I will kill _all_ who stand in my way, even you."

Lady pulled herself to her feet, slowly, her legs trembling and shifting slightly, wincing throughout the motion, yet managed to fix him with a hard glare,

"You could have let me die and used my blood like a bottle, we both know that."

She wiped her lips with the back of her hand and narrowed her eyes as she continued,

"But you just went through all that trouble. I've saved your life so many times it's clear I'm not some ordinary filth, Vergil. I'm your _equal, _and that's what I will be until we reach the end."

Vergil merely spat, a low growl ripping from his throat,

"You are nothing more than Arkham's sacrificial seed, woman. Your blood is vital to me _and that is all_; do not forget that."

His body was suddenly lax of emotion or any particular care for the woman's response to his words. Vergil knew his statement was true; it empowered him like a mantra, urged him to continue in his goals and ambitions with the apathy and strength of a true full-blooded demon, untainted by the human line. The Sparda knew that they were making headway, knew that the Lake was the turning point of their journey, bringing them ever close to his goal. And the closer he came, the further he could desensitize his thoughts towards the girl behind him, berate her as a calf for slaughter—for what true purpose could she ever possibly serve to him in the end, besides as vessel?

Mary's face was imbued in his blade's mirror-like surface, ghostly white in her copious amount of blood-loss, the stench of which caused his nostrils to flare and his teeth to grind. She was merely a pretty little rat from this view, a pig lined up for its slaughter, herded by her temporary Master. Her bright, burning eyes seemed like embers, now; so wan and feeble in its attempts to seethe with that very same vengeance he had been witness to before. The life was already being sucked from her body just as easily as if one were severing her soul, as fleeting and easily torn as a string; ultimately a worthless waste of skin.

They _all_ were, in the end.

Yet if Vergil would have turned around, he would have seen the fire suddenly kindling in Lady's eyes, and, perhaps, would have understood that Arkham's daughter had begun to devise her own plans.


	10. Lady in the Lake

**Yay, a quick update for this 'fic :D Are you guys as excited as I am?! Well, today is my birthday as well, so maybe I'm just automatically more excited than anyone else…(you know what would make for a great present? REVIEWS! Haha I know…lame…)**

**Thank you to the reviewers!:**

**destructo888: Don't worry...VxL is coming up more later on, I just wanted to backtrack a bit and make it a bit more realistic/true to their characters. :)**

**pangapod**

**IVIaedhros: Yes, I agree, I've been thinking about outlining these chapters...just because I'll write a ton and it'll come up ALOT shorter than I originally thought. Thank you for the suggestion.**

**Mistress of Destruction: Vergil is definitely working over-time...yes, we'll see how long that lasts :)**

**Ethear**

**Moonlight Shadow Huntress**

**I hope you guys enjoy this chapter, and stay tuned for the next one soon!**

* * *

If his eyes were not such a piercing blue, he would be her father in the flesh.

Lady bit back the thought, yet it betrayed her in all its horrific revelations—

The sight of the pristine body marred sickly red in its own blood, the great, shuddering breaths of compressing lungs as it swayed backwards in a wide, convulsing arc to the Earth below…

The rolling cerulean eyes shot red as he quivered and twitched, the late undulations of a body expired, so fleetingly _warm_ in her trembling arms, so much like her mother's—

And then the scream of defiance, the agonizing _pain_ in that demonic cry as he ripped himself from death, currents of rage powering his veins, stronger than any wound…

And Vergil fled.

Her father fled.

Like a bastard.

"Bastard."

Her whispering accusation was no accident. The words rang hollow in the Tower, dying against the churning scream of the waters surrounding them—yet Vergil's broad back arched and his once-calm pace of walking slowed to a frozen silence yet again. He was inhuman beneath the black shadows of the cavern, its twisting shapes casting a sickly, monstrous sheen on his skin. The huntress found herself clenching her jaw in anticipation as the Devil whipped himself around to face her, his eyes a scythe in the nearly solid blackness. Eyes that seemed to hold no end; strange, empty holes of eyes, as if they had been cut and gutted of all emotion but for vast nothingness.

And then his lips twitched into an almost frightening snarl.

"What did you say, girl?"

It was a smooth hiss that filled her body with chills; she kept her stance, her gaze steady. Kalina Ann could have been completely broken at her side, he could stick her through like a skewer—but she didn't care. For a moment this man was Arkham. For a moment, she utterly despised him.

"You're a _bastard_, Vergil. Destroying your own family like the _demon_ you are, putting me up for a sacrifice, and for _what?_ For a family toy—"

She had walked towards him in her fervor, had lost herself in the sudden, terrible rage. Bringing a hand out to touch the amulet lying like a bloody wound against his bare chest, Lady's words were cut off as cold metal sliced through the air and met her throat in a deadly kiss. The huntress fought the gasp that flew from her lips with a glare of defiance at Vergil's stony, stoic face, Yamato's sharp edge close to slicing her throat into bloody pieces.

"You are merely a human woman. You understand nothing of my affairs! This isn't just some toy; it's of more worth than you'll ever be, wench."

His words dropped with acid, with such burning revulsion Lady found herself snarling, her body tensed yet seething with hostility. Logic gnawed at the brim of her mind, insisted she keep herself alive long enough to complete her goal, to follow through with her newly concocted plan—yet the blood cried out in her veins, and she found herself struggling to push forward, the blade cutting against her flesh, the throbbing in her throat and the feeling of her own cold blood against Yamato's hungry silver tongue making her brain spin—

Yamato hissed as it pulled away. Lady's fingers shot to the liquid trickling down her throat in thin lines, and Vergil loomed above her, his face contorted into a savage leer.

"What do you _want_, Vergil?!"

She demanded, the red blood soaking her gloves as she spoke, her body still so dangerously close to his,

"What do you want with this Tower, with this amulet, with my blood?! Tell me! Tell me and I'll never speak again! Tell me and I'll happily carry through this pact!"

Her voice was so feeble—so sickeningly vulnerable and desperate, even to her. Vergil's hard gaze faltered; he turned away from her again, a soft, vicious chuckle rippling from his lips as he replied,

"It doesn't matter. Either way, you'll be dead in the end."

Her body was frigid as the reality broke the surface. The tome was heavy and overwhelming in her hands; so ironic that she was traveling to death itself. For a strange moment, angry tears pricked the corners of her eyes and words became strangled in her throat; a throat that would be useless in hours, breaths that could cease in a day of breathing.

And it was inevitable—she, the mortal fool, to suffer, to sacrifice, to die.

"_Vergil_."

The word felt like a plea; for what, she did not know, she did not care to know. Yet when the Son of Sparda turned his head again with that same, dead stare, she saw her sentencing.

"You are nothing but a tool to me."

The words stung her more than Yamato could have dreamt; Kalina Ann lay in her grip, her trembling hold as she wordlessly followed—her fingers aching to pull, dying to hurt this Satan as he had harmed her. The cavern was slower, suspended in free-fall; the waters seemed sluggish and rigid as they rose in low crests to spill from the rocky basin above, waterfalls pale as ice, trembling fingers pale like death.

No matter how much she resisted, she would die. No matter if she survived the Pact, survived Arkham…she would die, shrivel and wither of guilt, decay alone in this Tower, collapsed and buried beneath the ruins And so she was a toy in the Devil's eyes. A bartered sacrifice; a lamb for slaughter. All the better to slake his thirst.

His _power._

They were descending across wide slopes of stone, jagged earth rising unexpectedly to devour them in the dark underbelly of the ground. So many raging, foaming waters shouted seizures in her ringing ears; the thick brown earth above their heads packed with maggots and the tarnished white of forgotten bones. She became painfully aware of the biting cold of the underground chasms, the churning waters that nipped her skin and drenched her blood in frost as if she were air.

_Like you're already gone, a part of this earth…a grain of dust._

Vergil seemed to walk forever across the dancing shadows that embraced his tall body, that clung to him in black resplendence; the strangely empty halls that scooped low over their scalps, seemed to push their arched bodies inward to compress them as they passed. Her breath clung to frost, white and fleeting in the dark air. And then a flash of silver light shone across the caverns, and they stood before a door, flanked by the roar of waters never satisfied.

"Almost there, then."

The anticipation brought bile to her throat. What a fool she was, to think him anything like a human in his endeavors, as merciful or merely detached. The gleeful edge in his tone was that of one whose Christmas had come early, and as his white hands gripped the stone length of the doorway, Lady saw his gaze gleam with pure greed.

Their Pact would end soon.

And with it, her life.

In the depths of the chasm, the door gleamed against hard rock like an oasis in primal desert, drawing the two irresistibly toward its magnetic pull. Vergil's gaze was hungry, bestial, sweeping gluttonously over every miniscule detail of the elaborately carved doorway, depicting a woman's figure with a curiously hollow recess in the center, presumably some sort of keyhole needing to be unlocked. Lady eyed the doorway critically and felt a twinge of anxiousness at realizing they had to _look_ for the damned key amidst the land creeping with more of those Enigmas they had so recently encountered.

Perhaps that would have been a better death.

But _no,_ she couldn't go that way. She would have rather died valiantly, having completed her goal, than only halfway through her journey into Hell itself. Dark, sinister humor filled her brain at the very thought of her "journey," almost the carbon copy of the "Divine Comedy," led by Vergil into the dark depths…it was almost funny, almost bitterly so. She watched the Devil eye the door once more before his face twisted into a snarl and he pounded against the hard rock with a clenched fist,

"It seems we must find the key before going any further," He said in a smooth, surprisingly detached tone of voice, gazing straight into the rock rather than at Lady herself, "This Tower is quite fond of its secrets."

The Devil was not speaking to her; she could feel it, could feel it in the way he kept his head resolutely forward, restrained his gaze from averting towards her in any way, and the silent agitation that had built up within her bones was grating against her innards again with ferocious intensity, ready to tear her apart. Yet she found herself gritting her teeth beneath tightly pursed lips and whipping around in the opposite direction, walking carefully about the uneven ground, feeling the dampness of the earth even through her thickly soled boots.

A distant memory emerged from nowhere, as if it had floated from the river itself; an older time, when she was still called Mary, when her hair was in pigtails, gazing out at the calm sea, digging her toes into the sand, chubby legs against her father's back as he threw them both into the waters, laughing and splashing one another with the sea salt spray, her mother gazing fondly out at the both of them from the sand, as if it were a moment she could never forget…

_Enough of that crap, Lady. You need to concentrate._

To herself, she nodded, the distinctive smell of the waters wafting before her nose like a haunting requiem. Lady knew the Tower was not so cryptic as to hide its keys behind complex puzzles or intricate traps. Her mind worked viciously as she gazed up towards the path they had descended, wondering where exactly that particular key lay hidden…

"I think it's back in one of the rooms we've passed," She said quietly, and Vergil's footsteps immediately resounded against the solid stone ground as he propelled himself with inhuman speed through the hall, a blur against her vision.

She followed, hugging the blue coat that she was suddenly overwhelmingly repulsed by, the cold nipping at her already frigid body as she kept herself in tow of the quick-footed Devil. Sure enough, after traversing through the thick gray caverns they had originally rushed through, the gleam of something elaborate in the near distance caught her eye.

"It's…it's there!" She gasped, astonished at how quickly they had come across what Lady presumed to be the key, standing out sharply like a precious stone against the storeroom which held it, caked and smothered with ages of dust and grime.

Without hesitation, Vergil lunged forward to grab the fist-sized, blood-red jewel between his fingers –and, just as he did so, a scream pierced the air, sending an unexpected chill down Lady's spine.

"Company," The Devil stated with an air of cool calmness, unsheathing Yamato with a hiss of metal against sheath.

Lady willed herself to glance upwards at the descending, huge masses; two colossal spiders, their bodies appearing crafted of thick slime rather than solid skin, their eight legs scuttling and scraping the air even as they fell in rapid succession on their white trail of webbing, eager to pierce through their flesh. The hundreds of bulbous eyes were focused on the two of them, magnifying their faces with the dead, black, glossy stares, the slime-caked mouths snapping together in eager hunger with their elongated pincers, black tongues wagging from their slippery orifices. They scuttled forward, hairy, slimy bodies coming threateningly close towards the two. Yet Vergil seemed relatively unfazed, his brow furrowed, clenching the Ambrosia in one hand, Yamato in the other.

"I'll destroy you both," He hissed with sudden brutality toward the two Arachnids, and Lady couldn't help but watch him with a spark of curiosity, "Get ready to die!"

Before she could blink, the white-haired devil rushed forward and shot Yamato forward like a javelin; it sank into the nearest eye of the first spider, the Arachnid raising its front legs and uttering a piercing scream of pain as the devil shot for Yamato and, jumping up towards its slick, hairy body, pulled the blade out and downwards in a sloping arc with such force the blade was shooting downwards to carve the Arachnid's face like a pumpkin, blood bursting from its shattered face with disgusting ease.

Lady pulled herself away from the second Arachnid just as it reached for her with a long, flailing limb; she lobbed a grenade straight into the leering face, the wide-opened mouth, jumping backwards with a sharp twist of her body as rock and debris were lifted forcefully from the ground with the impact of the explosion, filling sparks and bursts of violent red and gold into the smoky air. The Arachnids' piercing wails echoed throughout the air, yet Lady was on her heels, her knees crouched, anticipating the gigantic spider's return; and it did not fail to disappoint, its face bloodied and pitch-black, surging forward with Satanic strength straight for her once again.

Behind her, Vergil was dodging the Arachnid's swift attempts at coming into contact with his body with its spindly limbs, hacking at every appendage the spider struggled to touch him with, until it screamed in sheer agitation, the ebony blood spewing like rain through the air. The devil leapt upwards and delivered a blow with his blade against the spider's torso, raising it in a swift, heavy arc, and the Arachnid's screams intensified as the ugly gash formed to separate its flesh from its innards. Kalina Ann thrust its long, curved blade into her own Arachnid opponent's face, for a moment forgetting the flailing limbs that swept downwards in an effort to crush her—she swiveled to the side just as four of the eight appendages shot downwards to pummel the ground that had just been beneath her feet. With a determined cry she pulled herself backwards and lobbed another grenade for its flailing body—the Arachnid seemed to sense it, pummeling forward at an alarming pace just as it connected with its flesh, the upper half of its body caught within the explosion of shrapnel and debris, covered in trickling ebony blood as the smoke quickly receded.

And yet it still hadn't _died._

Her eyebrows knit in frustration as the bloodied Arachnid rushed forwards again, yet she was not anticipating its sudden change in plans as it launched its sticky web straight for her. It was fast, shooting forward within the blink of an eye; the thick, sticky rope-like substance pooling across her feet and enveloping her ankles in solidity just as she was about to jump away. It was dragging her backwards, her stomach slamming against the ground, pulling her towards its drooling, shrieking orifice as Lady clung to Kalina Ann and found her own legs flailing in protest yet ultimately failing to fight back.

Her mind was panicked for an instant before a quick spark of a plan shot through her mind; and she stopped struggling to merely allow herself to be pulled forward, straight for the Arachnid's mouth.

A grunt and cry behind her; Vergil was fighting valiantly, his own opponent coated in its own blood, limping on half-lobbed away limbs, maw snapping viciously for the Devil that shot past its body again and again in quick blurs to stab its legs, backside, eyes just when he had been standing in another spot. It was a time-consuming tactic, yet it confused the spider; whenever it would shoot forward webbing in frustration, it would come up short, hesitate, as Vergil would take the chance and pummel its huge body with few yet devastating blows.

Lady was being pulled upwards by the web which suddenly snaked across her ankles and solidified about her knees like cement; she withheld a gasp as the webbing crept up with horrific quickness towards her thighs. She was dangling in the air as easily as a rag doll, directly facing the glob-like black eyes of the gigantic spider, a few of the many gouged and bloodied, each one reflecting her hostile face in a unanimous leer of bloodlust, and the webbing was spreading across to her hips, Kalina Ann barely dangling in her arm, as it opened its wide mouth, saliva dribbling down its front, incisors protruding to snap at her, eight limbs shoving her forward with brute, rapid force until its first incisor barely penetrated her leg—

And then it screamed in utter pain as Kalina Ann's blade came protruding through its gums.

With a sickening, lurching snap, the blade came free of the Arachnid's mouth, having cut a line straight through its maw, now dribbling with thick black blood and pus down its body, and she was falling, the webbing loosening from her legs, falling at an erratically quick pace towards the ground, yet just before she would impact the earth she stretched out an arm with all her strength and flung it for the screaming, ripped mouth of the spider—

Lobbing a grenade straight into its wide maw.

The Arachnid shrieked like a banshee as it imploded; its body seemed to collapse in on itself, the limbs retracting, shuddering, falling into withered stems beneath its huge form, the eyes, wide and bulbous, seeming to shatter in their sockets in bursts of black, spewing liquid, wide holes tearing throughout the skin as if it were made of paper, its entire body spewing blood and deflating like a screaming balloon. It finally sank to the ground, its smoking carcass spread out across nearly half the storeroom floor. Lady's fingers worked to pry the last of the webbing from her boots, her already wounded thigh aching with the pressure of the fall and the battle, and she found the thick makeshift tourniquet to be reddened with blood.

That was the least of her worries, however. Lady had other plans in mind as she turned to watch the second Arachnid falling like a stone to Vergil's blade, its body punctured in innumerable amounts, a pincushion to the viciously gleaming Yamato at the devil's side. It had been an easy task for him; time-consuming, yet ultimately effortless. The huntress heaved Kalina Ann across her shoulder and pushed the thick tendrils of white web behind her with the heel of her boot, walking towards the half-devil with a sudden wave of stoicism and, inevitably, disgust.

Vergil was slightly hunched over, his blade lying resolutely at his side, cradling the gleaming Ambrosia in his hands like a baby. His eyes were glazed with nothing less than eager lust as he stroked its sleek, glittering body, and her innards felt just as punctured as the spider lying dead before her. He stepped over the Arachnid's carcass with ease, as if it had never existed to guard the Ambrosia, and Lady's mind was filled with the image of herself, lying crooked and lifeless at his feet, as he stepped over her body with ease to unleash his Hell and fulfill his selfish desires…

No. That wasn't going to happen.

Her fist clenched against her side, kept resolutely from the devil's view, yet she followed him as always; silent and brooding.

She wasn't going to let it happen.

The caverns seemed illuminated with the Devil's glee; Vergil's eyes were uncharacteristically bright, yet illuminated by what could only be maniacal, malicious excitement, the blue flames eager to devour what lay beyond the locked doorway they were standing before. Lady couldn't concentrate; her mind was a blank slate, registering only the rippling of the waters, the fierce roar of the current, the sheer power of the river nearby that jutted into the stillness of dead lakes beyond.

"_Yes,_" Vergil was gasping, an unconscious cry that leapt from his excited lips, never meant for Lady's ears.

The Ambrosia was settling into the lock; its gleaming brilliance cast a ruby sheen across the girth of the doorway, momentarily coloring the chalk-white stone with a fiery red glow. Slowly, upon its ancient, enchanted hinges, the doorway began to creak and groan open, its wraith-like procession an act of submission to the anxious key holder that awaited what lay within.

She grabbed Kalina Ann and felt its weight bear down upon her body like heavy lead. Lady's palms were sweating; the smell of the water was almost overbearing.

The white-haired Devil pulled Yamato to his side, watching the abysmal darkness seep through the exposed portions of the doorway, eagerly waiting to enter its depths, his feet shifting forward, body tensed and poised.

She inched away, her feet digging into the stone as it gradually shifted to graying sand against the riverbank, the screaming stream. Lady looked down at the body of water, Kalina Ann burning into her fingertips.

The waters were chaotic, gurgling beneath her boot with a rapid downstream current that could propel anything at rapid speed with almost supernatural force. She cocked her head and pushed a few pebbles into the water with the toe of her boot—they were swept away immediately, as if they had never touched the rippling surface.

"Just let me know one thing."

Her voice was soft, yet it was surprisingly forceful—it echoed across the vast underground chasm as if she were screaming. Vergil turned with an air of cool apathy to mask impatience, his eyes bordering cruel carelessness as they hovered near where she stood,

"Yes?"

Lady clenched her fists, her left squeezing Kalina Ann's sleek body in a death grip, fingers trembling beneath their gloves. She bit her lip and turned around to face him, then, seeming to catch the Devil by surprise with her sudden shift in movement as their eyes forcibly met,

"As long as I follow…I can kill Arkham, in the end? I'll be alive for it?"

A dark shadow seemed to stir before his expressionless face, and she knew.

"Of course," Vergil said easily, piercing eyes meeting her own as if to somehow validate his words.

Yet Lady merely smiled, shaking her head, her eyes softening into sadness.

"Liar."

Before Vergil could fathom what was happening, Lady had lobbed a grenade straight for him—cursing, his eyes widening in stunned shock, he pulled himself to the side just as it exploded in a burst of shrapnel and smoke nearby. It had been a weak grenade, and horribly thrown; yet in those milliseconds as the smoke began to clear and dissipate, he realized that had been exactly as planned.

Lady was near the edge of the river, her arms outstretched, her body poised—her eyes met his for an instant before she began to fall backwards.

Vergil's mouth opened; he found himself pummeling forward on the balls of his feet, straight for the foolish, stupid girl—

And then she was gone.


	11. AN: Quick Notes & Clarification

**Quick Notes & Clarifications**

Okay…

I'm still alive! And so is this fanfic!

DEMONIC DIVULGENCES IS NOT DEAD. NOT ANYTIME SOON, as far as I'm concerned. You can blame my lack of updates for another painful writer's block, hectic college classes, and my overall life…as well as my procrastination. It's really difficult to focus on fanfics that I want to make really, really good such as Demonic Divulgences and Black Candles while doing schoolwork at the same time. But have no fear…I think I'm getting over my writer's block, and I have really long gaps between classes for the upcoming semester in which to write!

Yay!

I told you—this 'fic is not going to be abandoned. I WILL continue it, and I WILL end it just as well as I began it. What makes it so hard for me to write fanfiction is that I want every single chapter to be as good as the last, and I want the writing and the characterization and the plot to be really consistent. So, because I want my readers to really like my fanfic, and to understand everything…I think some explanation is in order.

After reading some comments I've realized that Demonic Divulgences (as well as Black Candles) is becoming really complex and sometimes hard to follow. So I'm going to explain about the plot and characterization that may have confused some people as best as I can, before I continue writing up chapters and confusing everyone even more (which I really don't want to happen).

Okay, here goes:

**What's up with Dante's characterization? It doesn't seem like him! **

Okay, there's a reason for that…keep in mind this is only the beginning of Dante's entrance into the fanfic. We're not looking at Dante as he was portrayed in the game, in which he's the protagonist—we're more looking at him through Lady's eyes if she had sided with Vergil, as a threat. Dante's kissing may not have been the best choice to keep him in character, I'll admit…but he'll redeem himself later, I promise. There's a reason I did that, and I think it's because there are points where Dante may sometimes be driven to desperation in rivalry with his brother. I also think Dante is full of empty threats at times, and death threats by him, no matter how serious, can be fleeting when used against a human…

Also, this 'fic is dark, much darker than the standard outlook of characters in the game (though not as dark as Black Candles...). I'm shooting for giving all three main characters a vicious side and a more vulnerable side. I didn't really want to make Dante generically the flirtatious protagonist...I wanted to focus on his darker side as well. And I think that, with Lady's POV shifted from the game, in which she's been under attack by Dante because of her alliance with Vergil...well, she's going to view him differently in his actions, and he might act differently.

Intimidation doesn't always mean actual hostility.

**Is this 'fic following the timeline of the 3****rd**** game in events and battles? If so, it doesn't make much sense…**

Okay. At first, I'll admit, I was trying to follow the timeline strictly in regards to boss battles, major plot events, and such…but I realized that may not work well with the story, because I changed it up in the beginning with the pact between Lady and Vergil, and then by introducing those monsters that could get into your mind. I was making an alternate universe and some events and battles, I think, I could put out of order or change because Lady's decision on making a pact with Vergil, if she had wanted to, would have changed how things would happen in Temi-ni-guru in its own right.

Let's look at the first chapter, and what happens in it. The reason Lady wanted the pact with Vergil, as was stated, is because she had caught Vergil wanting to dispose of Arkham prematurely—way before the game has Vergil stabbing Arkham. Since the only actual boss Lady and Vergil have encountered as of the 10th chapter has been Dante, we can say that is Dante and Vergil's first encounter…meaning that Arkham's stabbing and Lady's subsequent pact takes place after fighting Agni and Rudra.

I'm keeping all of the bosses after the first Dante encounter, so it will be more true to the game in events after Chapter 11. I'm sorry for confusing all the readers who were trying to strictly apply my fanfic to the game's timeline, and I hope this explained things enough.

If there is ANYTHING else that anyone has questions about, just include it in the review please…and I will update this section accordingly. Again, I hate to confuse any of my readers and I'm sorry for that. Expect an update soon for this chapter, as well as Black Candles, and The V Files. I hope everyone hasn't lost faith in me updating this, because I know it's been forever…but please stay tuned for the next chapter and, as always, feedback is loved and appreciated!

Love always,

XxnadsxX.


End file.
